THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


LITTLE  FOLKS  OF  REDBOW. 


BT 

MARY  A.  DENISON, 

AUTHOR  OF   "  A   NOBLE   SISTER,"    "  MILL   AGENT," 
"OUT  OF  PRISON,"   AC. 


BOSTON: 

HENRY  A.   YOUNG   &   CO., 

26   SCHOOL   STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

HENRY  A.  YOUNG  &.  CO., 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TZ7 


CONTENTS. 

Chapter.                                                                      Page. 
L— SHOP 5 

II. — THE  SMALL  HOUSEKEEPER 17 

III.— A  LITTLE  TIFF 27 

IV.— RIBBONS 33 

V.— A  HOME-KING ;-. 42 

VI. — "THERE'S  GIRLS  ENOUGH" 54 

VII.— HEROIC  PHIL 62 

VIII. — COFFEE  AND  CURRY 81 

IX.— CAD  ANTICIPATES 97 

X. — LINDA'S  OPINIONS 104 

XL— WHAT  Ross  WANTED Ill 

XII. — COMING  SHADOWS 129 

XIIL— THE  NEWS 134 

XIV.— A  TALK  ABOUT  IT....  ..  143 


622806 


4  Contents. 

Chapter.  Page. 

XV. — BREAD  AND  HONEY 151 

XVI.— LEAVING  HOME 161 

XVII.— REDBOW 171 

XVIII.— CAD'S  NEW  PLAYHOUSE 179 

XIX.— OUT  IN  THE  FARM-YARD 185 

XX. — MOTHER  PEIMROSE  AND  CROQUET 191 

XXI.— FATHER'S  SURPRISE 209 

XXII.— PLAYING  BIDDY 215 

XXIII.— PONIES  AND  SPONGE-CAKE 223 

XXIV.— COUNTRY  PLEASURES 233 

XXV. — DRESS-MAKING,  AND  ITS  TRIALS 241 

XXVI. — WHAT  CAME  OF  PHIL'S  SWIMMING 252 

XXVII.— WHAT'S  IN  A  GARRET 272 

XXVIII.— SPORTS  AT  REDBOW...  ..  284 

• 

XXIX.— HOME-MADE 299 

XXX. — A  LEAF  FROM  CAD'S  HOUSEKEEPING 304 

XXXL— EVENINGS  AT  HOME 316 

XXXII.— A.  BREATH  FROM  THE  CITY 326 

XXXIII.— BlTTEB   AND   SWEET 333 

XXXIV.— AN  UNCLOUDED  HOLIDAY...,  ..  349 


THE  LITTLE  FOLKS  OF  REDBOW. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SHOP. 

"  Cottons  and  cambrics  all  farewell, 
And  muslins  too  adieu." 

T  do  remind  me  of  my  own  coun- 
try so  much,  miss,"  said  Barton, 
wiping  a  stray  tear  that  had  found 
its  way  down  the  rosy  outline  of 
her  cheek,  as  the  chimes  of  the  dainty  little 
church  near  by  rang  merrily  to  and  fro  on 
their  musical  errand. 

How  the  sound  rang  out  on  the  clear  frosty 
air!  Up  the  gamut  and  down  again,  now 
clanging  a  sweet  monotony  of  thirds,  and  anon 


6          The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

breaking  out  into  "Hear,"  or  "Dundee,"  or 
some  other  blessed  old-time  tune. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  in  the  wintry  sky. 
Sleigh  bells  tinkled  from  the  street  below.  A 
long  vista  of  muffled  up  pedestrians  was  visi- 
ble from  the  nursery  windows,  their  cheeks 
bitten  scarlet  by  the  sharp,  clear  air.  Pretty 
St.  Mary's  crowned  the  view.  Its  shining 
windows  and  glistening  brown  stone  portals, 
its  spire  so  stately  and  tapering,  where  in  the 
bell  tower  red  lights  gleamed  on  Christmas 
nights,  were  all  pictures  of  beauty  to  the  Win- 
field  children,  in  whose  nursery  sat  Mistress 
Barton,  listening  to  the  chimes. 

"It's  like  'Bow  Bells '  at  home,  miss,  and 
the  churches  in  the  Strand.  There's  many 
bells  in  London,  dear,  and  they're  always  ring- 
ing. It  gives  me  a  sort  of  a  lonesomeness 
sometimes,  miss,  to  hear  them,  for  one  can't 
help  remembering  the  places  they've  been 
happy  in." 

"  I  hope  you  may  be  happy  with  us,  nurse," 
said  Kate  Winfield,  gently.  "Charley  is  a 


Shop.  7 

dear  baby,  and  mamma  " — she  paused  a  mo- 
ment, her  red  lips  looking  ready  to  break  out 
into  smiles,  while  a  lovely  light  suffused  her 
face — "well,  she  is  just  mamma,  you  know. 
You  can't  help  loving  her  dearly;  everybody 
does ;"  and  having  given  vent  to  this  fine  little 
outburst  of  loving  praise,  Kate  settled  down 
to  her  book  again. 

The  sweet  bells  chimed  on.  A  warm  glow 
of  soft  red  light  filled  the  nursery.  It  was  a 
large  room,  extending  the  whole  length  of  the 
house.  A  carpet  of  richest  hues  and  small 
mixed  figures  covered  the  floor,  so  bright  and 
warm  it  was,  that  it  seemed  of  itself  almost 
sufficient  furnishing. 

Nurse  Barton  rose,  rolled  up  her  knitting, 
and  went  out  at  the  same  moment  that  Fanny, 
the  second  sister,  entered,  and  following  her, 
Cad,  the  youngest  of  the  trio.  Fanny  walked 
up  to  the  window.  Cad  established  herself  in 
her  favorite  fashion. 

"  Kate,  can't  you  open  shop  ?"  asked  Fanny- 
"  I'm  dreadfully  shabby  in  my  morning  gowns. 


8          The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

I  must  have  a  dress,  and  I'm  going  to  choose 
green  this  time,  with  orange  trimmings." 

"  Shop   is   not  to    be    opened    again    this  • 
month,"   Kate  answered,  without  raising  her 
eyes  from  her  book.     "  Mother  said  so.     Be- 
sides.   I  don't  really   think  you  need  a  new 
dress." 

"Indeed,  I  do,"  persisted  Fanny;  "you 
know  I  wear  out  my  clothes  faster  than  any 
of  you ;  perhaps  it's  my  irritable  disposition 
pricking  outside ;  any  way,  I'm  shabby.  I  say 
it's  wrong  of  mamma  to  shut  up  shop.  I 
mean  to  coax  her ;  the  shop  is  full.  What's 
the  use  of  having  things  if  you  don't  use 
them  ?  I've  torn  the  ruffle  off  my  blue, 
almost  half-way  round — and " 

"Mend  it,"  said  Kate. 

"  I  can't,  it's  such  a  queerness  of  a  tear — 
just  over  the  hem.  And,  besides,  I  want  a 
green  with  an  orange  stripe." 

"Yellow  and  green!" 

A  mellow,  laughing  voice  this,  the  property 
of  a  merry  little  girl,  seated  in  the  middle  of 


Shop.  9 

the  room  on  a  heap  of  scarlet  cushions.  She 
made  a  lovely  picture  as  the  wintry  sun  lighted 
up  her  pretty,  trim  little  figure,  fair-flowing 
hair,  and  dainty  dress. 

"  What  an  odd  one  our  Fan  is,"  she  added, 
another  musical  laugh  rippling  from  her  rosy 
lips. 

"And  what  if  I  am  odd?"  Fanny  responded 
sharply,  her  cheeks  reddening.  "I'm  able  to 
be,  I  hope.  I'll  have  what  I  want,  and  say 
what  I  wish,  I  guess,  whether  other  folks 
approve  or  not.  I'm  not  little  Miss  Plausible, 
like  you,  or  Propriety,  like  Kate.  You  are 
always  saying  something  to  aggravate  me, 
you  two.  I'll  have  green  and  yellow,  or  black 
,and  blue,  if  I  like ;"  and  a  few  tears,  born  of 
her  hot  temper,  stood  in  her  eyes. 

Kate  was  now  roused  sufficiently  to  put  her 
book  aside.  Her  sweeter  nature  made  her 
capable  of  arbitration  in  these  small  household 
quarrels. 

"Now,  Fanny,  you're  in  a  passion,"'she  said, 
coming  forward  all  the  length  of  a  sunbeam. 


io        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Cad,  you  do  say  cross  things,  dear;  what's 
the  harm  of  green  and  yellow,  don't  butter- 
cups grow  close  to  clover  leaves  ?" 

Fanny  still  stood,  pouting.  Cad  was  look- 
ing at  her  with  an  amused,  provoking  smile. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  temper  ?"  queried 
the  small  mother  of  many  dolls,  putting  the 
last  stitch  in  a  tiny  blue  sack. 

"  Ugly,  hateful,  provoking  thing !"  muttered 
Fanny.  "  You  and  Phil  are  always  trying  to 
break  my  heart.  I  wonder  what  boys  were 
made  for — or  younger  sisters,  either  ?  I  won- 
der—O! " 

She  sprang  forward,  the  red  flag  of  anger 
disappearing,  dashed  across  the  room,  and 
held  out  her  arms  as  Barton  came  in,  arrayed 
in  a  prim  little  English  cap  and  a  dimity 
apron.  Barton  carried  Prince  Charlie. 

You  can't  fancy  what  Charlie  was  like, 
unless  you  have  just  such  an  angel  in  your 
own  household.  In  the  first  place,  as  Fanny 
enthusiastically  said,  and  no  one  gainsaid  her, 
Charlie  was  a  "  perfect  beauty."  The  grand, 


Shop.  1 1 

princely  little  head,  with  its  wealth  of  silken 
curls,  the  milk-white  forehead,  shy,  wondering 
brown  eyes,  moods  of  sudden  mirth  or  serious- 
ness, glances  that  challenged  the  soul's  truth, 
dimples,  coaxing  kisses,  haughty  little  nods,  as 
saying,  "  You  have  my  royal  permission  to  go 
on ;"  unexpected  quivering  of  coral  lips,  caress- 
ing fingers,  worldless  disdains,  amateur  con- 
cessions, everything  lovely  and  winning,  ador- 
able and  wonderful,  that  makes  up  the  regal 
individuality  of  a  baby,  little  Charlie  was. 

It  was  not  susprising,  therefore,  that  Fanny 
held  out  her  arms,  from  which  the  fetters  of 
selfishness  fell  without  noise ;  no  wonder  that 
ill-temper  vanished  from  her  brow,  and  left 
her  eyes  shining,  as  the  little  fellow  turned 
from  his  new  nurse  with  a  smile. 

"  It's  my  turn  to  hold  him  to-day,  nurse," 
cried  Fanny.  "  Kate  had  him  yesterday  and 
Cad  the  day  before.  Come,  prince  out  of 
fairy  land,  most  beautiful  of  baby  brothers." 

"  Now,  miss,"  said  prosaic  Barton,  "  is  your 
hands  quite  clean?" 


1 2        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Fanny  drew  indignantly  back.  If  looks 
were  swords,  nurse  would  have  been  sorely  hurt. 

"  I  should  hope  I  was  old  enough  to  keep 
my  hands  clean  always,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
vehement  emphasis.  "I  wonder  what  you 
think  of  us  ?" 

"  Lawk,  miss !"  ejaculated  Barton,  and  stood 
there  red  and  sheepish.  "  You  see  they  was 
untidy  in  the  last  place  to  that  degree  'twas 
hard  work  to  find  a  clean  spot  on  'em.  I  des- 
say  it's  all  right,  miss,  so  don't  be  out  o* 
temper  with  me." 

"  I'm  not  out  of  temper,"  muttered  Fanny, 
still  resentful,  as  finally  she  took  Charlie  in 
her  arms. 

"We  don't  call  it  out  of  temper;  it  isn't 
polite,"  sad  Cad,  soberly;  "it  isn't  out  of  any 
thing — it's  only  in  tantrums.  Besides,  we  are 
•very  particular  to  keep  ourselves  spick-spandy 
clean;  mamma  don't  allow  any  dirt  round; 
does  she,  Petkin?" 

Petkin  was  the  doll  whom  long  usage  and  a 
much  enduring  China  face,  proof  against  all 


Shop.  1 3 

accidents  and  repeated  washings,  had  endeared 
to  her  young  mother,  and  on  whom  she  was 
trying  the  pretty  blue  sack  just  completed. 
Her  world  in  miniature  was  a  happy  world  to 
this  busy,  loving  little  heart.  Cad  was  the 
incarnation  of  capable  motherhood.  She  had 
so  many  babies,  that,  like  the  old  woman  that 
lived  in  a  shoe,  she  was  sorely  perplexed 
sometimes  where  to  bestow  them. 

Her  favorites  were  easily  numbered,  how- 
ever. Chief  of  these  was  Petkin,  a  gift  from  a 
friend  in  the  far  South,  who  bore  her  scrub- 
bings  or  kisses  with  the  same  serene  and 
smiling  countenance.  Magnificent  Maud  came 
next.  She  had  first  seen  the  light  in  a  showy 
London  bazar.  Sordid  calico  was  quite  un- 
known to  this  fastidious  young  creature,  whose 
silk  dress  shone  with  silver  lace  and  spangles. 
Miss  Maud  did  duty  on  exhibition.  Cad  never 
tired  of  admiring  her  long  pale  hair,  bright- 
ened by  a  top-knot  of  delicate  rose  pink  ribbon, 
that  formed  a  pretty  contrast  to  the  flaxen 
curls;  her  exquisite  idle  hands,  in  one  of  which 


1 4        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

dangled  a  tiny  handkerchief  of  real  Honiton, 
thus  proving  her  title  to  fine  ladyship. 

When  this  favorite  had  just  begun  to  pall  a 
little  on  Cad's  honest  liking,  came  French 
Felice,  a  present  from  an  uncle  travelling 
abroad.  It  had  been  sent  directly  from  Paris, 
with  the  letter  that  follows,  cunningly  folded 
in  its  well-gloved  little  hand: 

"My  Dear  Little  Cad — If  you  were  only 
with  your  old  uncle,  he  would  take  you 
through  some  of  these  Paris  shops,  where 
miracles  of  ingenuity  are  for  sale. 

"  I  wish  I  could  show  you  this  beautiful  rose, 
a  marvel  of  coloring  and  delicacy.  While 
admiring  it,  as  I  am  sure  you  would,  suddenly 
you  would  find  in  your  hand  a  unique  little 
smelling  bottle;  yet  nobody  would  question 
that  you  held  a  rose,  and  a  freshly  cut  one 
too.  Here  are  verbenas  of  such  dewy  fresh- 
ness that  you  can  hardly  persuade  yourself 
they  are  not  real.  I  would  put  on  your  hand 
a  spider  with  diamond  eyes  all  over  its  little 


Shop.  1 5 

body;  it  is  even  made  to  crawl;  but  I  think  I 
shall  not  buy  it  for  a  brooch  for  my  little  lady. 
Here  is  a  gold  thimble  that,  on  the  pressure 
of  a  concealed  spring,  sends  out  a  tiny  fountain 
of  perfumed  water.  Here  is  a  fan  that  can  be 
transformed  into  a  pafasol.  Butterflies  and 
black  beetles  are  gifted  with  the  power  of 
locomotion;  and  how  do  you  like  Felice?  She 
opens  and  shuts  her  eyes,  smiles  comically, 
and  comes  not  empty  handed  to  her  future 
mamma.  Good-by,  excellent  little  house- 
keeper, and  don't  forget  UNCLE  JACK." 

Felice  came,  accompanied  by  a  superb 
wardrobe.  Morning  robes,  beautiful  enough 
to  set  many  a  human  belle  wondering — fine 
French  dressing  gowns,  complete  dresses  of 
moire  silk,  with  ridiculously  long  trains,  and 
numberless  other  vanities,  conspicuous  among 
which  were  two  pairs  of  gaiter  boots,  perfect 
in  make  and  finish,  a  pink  parasol,  daintily 
lined  and  fringed,  a  set  of  ermine  furs,  and  a 
gold  watch,  and  bracelets. 


1 6        TJie  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

What  wonder  that  sober  little  Cad  grew 
wild  with  joy  when  these  beautiful  presents 
arrived?  It  was  quite  enough  to  turn  her 
head  for  the  time,  as  similar  vanities  bewilder 
older  and  wiser  people  than  she.  Her  little 
heart  was  bound  up  in  dolls — always  had  been. 

Cad  had  just  crossed  the  boundary  of  her 
ninth  year,  and  she  was  small  of  her  age. 
From  her  infancy  she  had  been  easy  to  man- 
age. Her  heart  was  always  large  and  loving, 
and  her  natural  disposition  good.  Her  sister 
Fanny  was  eleven,  and  fancied  herself  quite  a 
woman.  Her  reign  was  by  no  means  a  quiet 
one;  she  made  fewer  friends  than  Cad,  and 
was  easily  thrown  off  her  balance.  People 
were  always  afraid  of  "  putting  her  out,"  and 
nobody  dared  to  be  candid  with  her  but  she 
who  was  now  "  mamma,  you  know." 

Kate — "rare  Kate,"  her  father  called  her, 
and  you  can  guess  what  she  was  to  him — had 
just  turned  fifteen.  She  was  a  spirit  of  glad- 
ness, of  unselfishness;  and  an  angel  in  the 
house.  Of  the  boys,  more  anon. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE    SMAl_l_    HOUSEKEEPER. 

"Unsullied  beauty,  sound,  unbroken  youth, 
Patient  of  labor,  with  a  little  pleased, 
Health  ever  blooming:  unambitious  toil." 

HE  lot  of  these  little  folks  had  been 
cast  in  a  pleasant  place.  Home  was 
beautiful,  and  its  surroundings  and 
associations  were  of  the  best.  No 
room  could  be  pleasanter  in  all  the  wide  range 
of  happy  households  than  the  nursery.  A 
delicate  azure  tracery  of  vines  over  a  white 
ground  covered  the  walls,  and  heightened 
the  effect  of  the  many  charming  pictures 
hung  lavishly  about  the  room. 

There  were  tables,  and  lounges,  and  minia- 
ture chairs;  closets  and  nooks  for  toys,  bas- 
kets for  work,  and  happy  inventions  of  all 

2  17 


1 8        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

kinds  for  indoor  exercise.  The  windows, 
broad  and  deep,  were  hung  with  blue  and 
fawn,  and  the  curtains  were  swung  on  rings, 
so  that  a  child  could  easily  manage  them. 

Out  of  this  cheerful  home  nest,  where 
brooded  so  many  happy,  loving  hearts,  opened 
three  little  bed-rooms,  one  for  each  of  the 
girls.  Nurse  Barton  slept  in  the  main  apart- 
ment, and  her  bed  and  baby's  crib  were  hid 
by  a  large  crimson  screen. 

And  the  mother,  the  crowning  glory  of  this 
charming  group,  what  shall  I  say  of  her? 

"  Dear  Miss  Willis,"  as  the  children  had 
always  called  her,  had  been  their  governess 
before  she  became  their  second  mamma. 
There  was  no  consternation,  and  but  little 
surprise  in  the  pleasant  household  among 
the  girls  when  they  knew  what  change  was 
contemplated. 

Only  Cad,  sobbing  as  if  her  little  heart 
would  break,  ran  to  her  governess,  crying, 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall  love  you  dearly  ;  but  who 
will  teach  us  all  our  lessons?" 


The  Small  Housekeeper.  19 

At  the  answer,  Cad's  tears  were  changed  to 
smiles. 

"  Everything  is  to  go  on  in  the  old  way, 
dear,  till  papa  sees  fit  to  send  you  to  school." 

So  everything  did  go  on  in  the  old  way, 
and  a  charming  way  it  was.  They  were  glad 
to  have  the  happy  privilege  of  calling  her 
"mamma,"  and  they  decided  in  council,  in 
Kate's  bedroom,  the  morning  after  the  wed- 
ding— all  under  their  night-caps — to  love  her 
dearly,  entering  into  solemn  league  never  to 
fret  or  torment  her. 

The  picture  of  their  own  dear  mother  still 
remained  upon  the  walls  in  the  nursery,  the 
sitting-room,  the  grand  parlors;  and  they 
talked  as  freely  of  her  to  their  new  mamma,  as 
when  she  was  still  their  governess. 

I  said  only  of  the  girls  that  none  rebelled  at 
this  change.  The  boys  were  not  so  consider- 
ate. But,  as  Fanny  often  said,  what  can  we 
expect  of  boys  ? 

Ross,  sixteen,  and  at  college,  took  it  into 
his  wise  young  head  to  act  the  injured  son  for 


2O        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

awhile,  but  a  two  months'  vacation  at  home 
cured  him  of  his  folly,  made  him,  as  he  often 
said,  "  hers  obediently."  Phil,  one  year  older 
than  Fanny,  was  a  rough,  good-hearted,  unfor- 
tunate fellow,  very  hard  to  manage,  and  a 
great  trial  to  the  whole  household.  For  a 
time  he  resented  the  sweet  authority  of  his 
new  mamma,  and  made  her  very  uncomfort- 
able, but  since  Prince  Charlie  had  come,  Phil 
had  grown  a  trifle  more  gentle. 

And  now  that  I  have  introduced  you  to  the 
family  of  my  little  folks,  six  merry  hearts  in 
all,  I  shall  go  on  with  the  story,  for  I  am  sure 
it  is  the  story  you  want,  so  we  return  to 
Fanny  and  the  baby. 

Fanny  appeared  at  her  best  when  she  was 
petting  the  baby.  No  bad  humors  then — the 
frowns  were  mustered  out,  and  the  dimples 
had  it  all  their  own  way. 

"Isn't  he  perfectly  lovely?  Cad,  however 
can  you  play  with  those  silly  dolls  when  there 
is  this  charming  live  cherub  to  hug  and  kiss  ? 
I'm  sure  I  don't  see,"  she  cried,  pulling  the 


The  Small  Housekeeper.  21 

silken  curls  of  finest  floss,  which,  the  moment 
her  fingers  left  it,  twisted  into  tiny  gold  rings 
again. 

"O,  I  love  him  just  the  same,"  said  Cad, 
coolly,  "only  you  see  it's  your  day,  not  mine. 
And  then  I  must  teach  Petkin  to  be  tidy,  so 
I'm  picking  up  all  the  threads  and  bits  from 
the  carpet.  Besides,  I've  such  a  pile  of  clothes 
to  wash  before  dinner,"  she  added,  with  comi- 
cal pathos;  "children  do  make  such  dirt!" 

Barton  was  knitting  a  pair  of  small  red 
stockings.  Her  rosy  English  face  and  tidy 
dress  made  her  a  companionable  person,  even 
if  now  and  then  she  dropped  her  h's.  She 
looked  up  as  Cad  spoke. 

"Shan't  I  wash  'em  for  you,  miss?"  she 
asked. 

"  Dear  me,  no,  nurse.  I  never  put  out  my 
washingj"  and  Cad  gathered  from  a  chair  near 
by,  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  night  gowns 
and  petticoats,  and  aprons,  and  dolls'  hoods 
and  sacks. 

"  I  never  put  my  washing  out,"  she  repeated, 


22        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

with  a  prim  little  air  of  importance,  while 
Fanny,  hugging  the  baby,  laughed  at  her 
"childishness." 

"  Perhaps  you  haven't  noticed  my  summer 
kitchen,  nurse  ?"  and  Cad  paused  on  her  way 
out  with  her  bundle. 

"  No,  miss,  I  'aven't,"  nurse  responded. 

"Then  suppose  you  come  out  on  the  balcony 
and  look  at  it,"  said  Cad,  transferring  her 
bundle  to  her  shoulder. 

Nurse,  with  an  amused  expression  on  her 
pink  and  white  face,  followed  the  small  lady 
to  what  she  called  the  balcony. 

It  was  a  sort  of  roofed-in  gallery,  over  which 
a  glorious  climbing  rose  bush  sent  its  long 
sprays,  and  through  whose  trellis  clusters  of 
lovely  roses  peeped,  in  the  summer  season. 
At  one  end  of  this  place  a  frame  had  been 
built,  one-half  of  which  opened  like  a  door. 
The  floor  of  this  portion  of  the  balcony  was 
covered  with  a  layer  of  zinc,  and  that  again 
by  a  neat  little  gray  oil-cloth.  All  around  this 
queer  enclosure  were  hung  various  kitchen 


The  Small  Housekeeper.  23 

utensils.  On  nails,  pans  and  kettles  were 
suspended,  and  the  shelves  were  filled  with 
various  useful  articles.  In  the  middle  of  the 
floor  stood  a  cast-iron  cooking  stove,  about  a 
foot  in  diameter,  the  tiny  funnel  carefully 
run  through  a  partition  that  was  tinned,  as  a 
protection  against  heat. 

At  the  side  of  the  wash-room,  as  Cad  called 
it,  stood  a  low,  substantial  table,  on  which  lay, 
carefully  rolled  up,  an  ironing  blanket.  A 
shelf  above  that  held  the  flat  irons  and  their 
iron  stands. 

"  Well,  I  never !"  ejaculated  Barton,  in  tones 
of  genuine  astonishment;  "I  never  did  see  a 
little  lady  fixed  up  like  this  before,  even  in 
London." 

"No,  indeed;  this  is  my  place,"  said  Cad, 
airing  her  self-esteem  sufficiently;  "it's  useful, 
you  know.  If  I  was  a  grown  lady  I  would 
have  a  spl-^«-did  kitchen." 

"  O,  indeed,  you're  very  right,  miss,  for  one 
as  likes  housework." 

"That's  me/'   said   Cad,  gravely.     "Under 


24        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

this  board  are  my  wash  tubs — see  ?"  she  lifted 
the  board. 

"  Dear  me !  quite  perfect,"  sighed  the  nurse. 
"Does  Miss  Fanny  ever  work  in  'ere  with 
you  ?" 

"  Fanny !  not  she ;  her  taste  runs  differently, 
you  see ;  in  clothes,  and  dress,  and  fixing  up. 
She  thinks  more  of  company  and  having  good 
times.  I'm  afraid  she'd  been  spoilt,"  she  ad- 
ded, with  a  curious  gravity,  "  if  Charlie  hadn't 
come.  Now  I'm  domestic." 

Barton  suppressed  a  smile,  but  went  on  ad- 
miring the  arrangements,  knitting  as  fast  as 
she  talked;  indeed,  neither  sight-seeing  nor 
conversation  ever  interfered  with  her  nimble 
fingers. 

"  Did  you  always  go  as  nurse  ?"  asked  Cad, 
going  busily  around  her  little  domain. 

"Dear  me,  miss,"  replied  Barton,  a  shadow 
falling  to  her  honest  face,  "I  kept  my  own 
house  once — when  my  William  was  alive." 

"And  was  it  a  large  house?" 

"It  was  only  three  bits  of  rooms,  miss,  at 


The  Small  Housekeeper.  25 

the  side  of  a  little  black  church,  which  the 
chimes  up  here  do  so  remind  me  of,  miss. 
William,  he  was  verger  there,  and  looked  for 
all  the  world  as  grand  as  the  minister  himself, 
for  he  were  fine  looking,  were  my  William — 
and  I  made  his  gown  myself.  I  was  real  proud 
of  him,"  she  added,  mournfully. 

Now  Cad  did  not  like  to  ask  what  a  verger 
was ;  it  would  never  do  to  show  herself  more 
ignorant  than  Barton,  so,  like  some  older  per- 
sons, she  "  beat  about  the  bush"  as  they  say. 

"Did  your  husband  have  any  thing  to  do  in 
the  pulpit,  Barton?" 

"  Lawk,  no,  miss,  only  to  clean  and  cover  it. 
He  did  show  the  people  in  of  a  Sunday,  and 
it  was  my  pride  to  see  him  in  his  black  gown 
and  his  long  rod  in  his  'and.  It  were  a  dim, 
little  old  church,  Miss,  and  a  dingy;  and  I  was 
pew  opener,  and  many  a  bit  of  silver  I  got 
from  the  gentle  folks.  We  was  very  'appy," 
she  added. 

Cad  had  for  the  present  only  a  sympathetic 
understanding  of  the  matters  nurse  talked 


26        T/te  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

about  She  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  and  gathered  from  her  tender  manner 
that  she  must  have  been  very  fond  of  William, 
and  William  very  fond  of  her.  She  even  tried 
to  imagine  how  the  three  bits  of  rooms  looked, 
but  found,  as  Barton  went  on,  her  heart  full  of 
old  time  memories,  that  they  were  not  all  like 
her  ideal  of  a  home,  that  they  were  dingy,  and 
curtainless,  one  window  looking  upon  a  dreary 
court  and  the  other  upon  a  little  yard  "  stuck 
full  of  old  graves,  deary." 

"And  you  see  it  were  well  enough  for  the 
likes  of  us,  miss,  and  we  was  just  going  on 
sweetly,  till  William  took  it  into  his  'ead  as 
'ow  America  were  the  place  for  a  young  man 
to  push  his  footing — and  he  did  push  'em  that 
'ard,  miss,  that  he  earned  six  feet  of  the  soil 
— and  my  poor  baby  lays  aside  him,  miss.  It's 
not  a  bad  country,  to  be  sure,"  she  went  on, 
with  quivering  lips;  "but  I  fancy  sometimes 
I'd  like  poor  William  to  be  sleeping  where  the 
shadows  of  the  old  ivied  wall  might  fall  on  his 
grave,  miss." 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    LITTLE    TIFF. 

"  Then  to  be  good  is  to  be  happy ;  angels 
Are  happier  than  mankind,  because  they're  better." 

HOWE. 

EANWHILE,  Prince  Charlie  had 
gone  to  sleep.  Fanny  pulled  the 
scarlet  cushions  in  a  gorgeous  heap, 
and  laid  the  beautiful  babe  upon 
them,  his  rings  of  yellow  hair  glistening  like 
an  aureola  about  the  perfect  head.  She  sat 
there  delighting  her  eyes  with  the  fair  picture. 
"If  I  could  only  paint  it!"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "I  never  saw  anything  prettier  in  the 
Academy  rooms.  Look,  Kate!" 

"Yes — what  is  it?"  queried  Kate,  absently. 
"What  a  book-worm  you  are!     What  are 
you  reading?"  persisted  Fanny. 

27 


28        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"A  story,"  said  Kate,  beginning  to  frown. 

"You  are  careless,  Miss  Kate;  what  would 
mamma  say  if  she  saw  your  work  draggling 
all  over  the  floor  ?  Don't  you  know  /  should 
have  to  put  my  work  away  before  I  began  to 
read?" 

Kate  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  the  frown 
grew  more  decided. 

"What  is  the  story,  Kate?" 

"  No  matter,  Fanny ;  go  on  with  your  play, 
and  don't  trouble  me.  You  wouldn't  under- 
stand." 

"O,  wouldn't  I?  Well,  Miss  Wisdom,  you 
think  yourself  quite  a  woman,  I  suppose.  I'm 
not  so  much  younger  than  you.  Miss  Propri- 
ety, get  up  and  put  your  work  away." 

"  I  wish  you'd  go  out  of  the  nursery,  Fanny 
Winfield,"  Kate  said,  reddening,  and  talking 
very  fast.  "When  you  have  a  mind  to  be, 
you're  the  greatest  torment  I  know." 

Fanny  was  inwardly  in  ecstasy  in  these  lit- 
tle soul  battles,  while  her  mind  was  forming 
and  her  judgment  immature,  whenever  she 


A  Little   Tiff.  29 

roused  in  her  elder  sister  what  Cad  called 
"improper  tempers." 

"  Who's  hateful  now  ?"  she  queried.  "  Don't 
talk  to  me,  Kate  Winfield,  about  m%  badness, 
after  speaking  in  that  fashion." 

"You  know  you  are  an  awful  torment,"  said 
poor  Kate,  in  an  unsteady  voice,  her  ears 
tingling  at  her  sister's  speech;  but  the  book 
had  suddenly  lost  its  absorbing  interest 

Kate  was  trying  very  earnestly,  with  her 
mother's  aid  and  the  help  of  the  dear  Lord, 
to  conquer  herself.  She  knew  that  she  was 
quick-tempered  and  impatient,  and  presently 
regretted  her  late  impatience.  So,  quietly 
putting  aside  her  book,  she  folded  up  her  work, 
while  Fanny  looked  on,  rather  crest-fallen, 
placed  it  neatly  away  in  the  basket  appropri- 
ated to  it,  and  then  going  softly  forward,  knelt 
down  and  kissed  the  baby  on  his  fair  flushed 
cheek. 

"  No  wonder  we  all  love  him  so,"  she  said, 
softly,  and  her  face  seemed  like  an  illumina- 
tion. 


30        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  Kate,  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you,"  blurted 
Fanny. 

"And  I  didn't  mean  to  make  such  speeches, 
I  suppose,"  laughed  the  elder  sister;  "at  least 
I  always  feel  afterwards  as  if  I  hadn't  meant 
to.  I  wonder  if  it  isn't  almost  time  for  mamma 
to  come  home." 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Cad's 
"angel"  looked  in.  Cad's  angel  was  "mother," 
and  never  was  face  more  welcome.  Fanny 
forgot  even  Prince  Charlie,  as  the  clear,  sweet 
eyes  met  hers,  so  alight  with  trust,  confidence 
and  maternal  love. 

"Where  is  my  baby?"  asked  Mrs.  Winfield; 
and  Kate  moved  aside,  revealing  the  sleeping 
child. 

"  Isn't  he  lovely?"  asked  worshipful  Fanny. 

"  Charming,  asleep  or  awake,"  was  the 
response  of  the  gratified  mother,  as  she  stood 
looking  down  upon  him,  her  lovely  face  rip- 
pling into  smiles.  "Well,  girls,  what  have 
you  been  doing  in  my  absence?  Give  an 
account  of  yourselves." 


A  Little   Tiff.  31 

"  I  have  finished  my  work,  mamma;  I  won- 
der if  it  is  nice  enough  to  suit  your  critical 
eyes?"  said  Kate,  laughing,  as  she  brought 
forward  her  work-basket. 

"Perfect!"  her  mother  responded,  with  an 
approving  nod.  "And  how  do  you  get  on, 
Fanny  ?" 

"  I've  been  taking  care  of  the  baby,"  said 
Fanny,  with  heightened  color. 

"One  week  at  a  pillow  case!     O,  Fanny!" 

"I  can't  be  sewing  forever!"  cried  Fanny, 
pettishly,  irritated  that  her  jnother  had  no 
praise  for  her. 

Mrs.  Winfield  looked  grave. 

"  My  dear,  I  don't  want  you  to  be  sewing 
forever,"  she  said,  in  her  low,  sweet  voice; 
"you  know  that." 

Fanny  plucked  at  her  sleeve,  and  made  a 
mental  apology.  Gentleness  quite  subdued 
this  poor  little  girl,  who  was  so  often  a  victim 
to  her  own  hot  temper.  Her  lips  trembled. 

"  I  did  mean  to  have  it  finished,"  she  said, 
humbly.  "  I'll  try  to  do  it  to-morrow." 


32        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Her  eyes  met  those  of  Cad's  "  angel,"  and 
saw  a  smile  there.  She  was  conquered,  and 
springing  to  her  feet,  flew  with  outstretched 
arms  to  her  mother,  who  was  quite  ready  to 
offer  the  kiss  of  peace. 

"  I  shall  never,  never  be  good,"  she  half 
sobbed. 

"  O,  yes,  you  will,  my  darling;  remember  it 
is  only  one  step  at  a  time.  Every  right  reso* 
lution  makes  you  so  much  stronger.  Only 
have  patience  with  yourself.  Here  comes 
nurse,  and  the  clock  says  four.  We  must  be 
ready  for  papa  in  an  hour.  He  wants  his 
little  folks  to  be  punctual,  you  know." 

So  the  nurse  took  Prince  Charlie,  whose 
happy  little  face  beamed  smiles  upon  all,  and 
the  girls  scampered  toward  the  little  bed- 
rooms, which  were  also  their  dressing-rooms, 
to  get  on  fresh  aprons,  and  make  themselves 
neat  and  pretty  before  the  dinner  bell  rang. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


RIBBONS. 

"  Alas !  how  light  a  cause  may  move 
Dissension  between  hearts  that  love." 

RIGHT  sunshine  had  come  again, 
and  Fanny,  in  a  very  good  humor, 
looked  over  the  little  stock  of  rib- 
bons folded  away  in  the  drawer. 
She  had  chosen  her  favorite  color,  and  her 
face  was  in  the  water,  when  a  tiny  tap  came 
at  the  door. 

"Who's  there?"  cried  Fanny,  vigorously 
applying  the  towel,  a  little  angry  at  the  inter- 
ruption. "If  it's  you,  nurse,  I  don't  want 
any  help." 

"It's  me!"  piped  Cad's  decisive  little  voice. 
"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

3  33 


34        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  Open  the  door,  please." 

"What  a  bother  you  are!"  and  Fanny  reluc- 
tantly unfastened  the  door. 

"  It's  so  queer  to  lock  yourself  in,"  said  Cad, 
as  she  composedly  entered  the  room;  just  like 
State's  prison.  /  never  do.  I  only  wanted  to 
know  what  ribbons  you  were  going  to  wear." 

"You  provoking  little  thing!  Was  that  all? 
and  papa  nearly  here.  Why  blue,  of  course." 

"Now,  that's  too  bad;  /  wanted  to  wear 
blue  to-day." 

"  Well,  you  can,  if  you  wish;  of  course  no 
one  is  going  to  prevent  you,"  said  Fanny, 
moving  the  door  impatiently  for  Cad  to  be 
gone. 

"  No,  I  can't ;  of  course  I  can't,  or  shan't  if 
you  do.  You  know  mamma  never  likes  us  to 
wear  the  same  colors.  You've  worn  blue  for 
three  days;  I  think  you  might  change." 

"But  I  won't!"  said  Fanny,  sturdily;  "I'm 
oldest." 

"  Step  by  step,"  thought  Fanny  to  herself,  as 
her  mother's  words  echoed  along  the  corridors 


Ribbons.  35 

of  her  heart ;  but  the  little  demon  of  selfish- 
ness was  uppermost ;  she  had  taken  her  stand 
on  the  blue,  and  it  would  never  do  to  yield  to 
Cad.  The  child's  disappointed  face  stung  her 
a  little,  but  she  had  not  yet  learned  the  divine 
grace  of  giving  up. 

"  I  won't  wear  any  ribbon  then,"  said  Cad 
with  energy,  turning  away  crestfallen.  "O 
dear,  I  think  you  are  a  most  disobliging  sister. 

I  wish "  she  put  her  hands  to  her  lips,  and 

marched  out  of  the  room. 

"What  do  you  wish?"  called  Fanny;  but 
Cad  had  disappeared. 

"  I  do  wonder  what  she  wished  ?"  mused 
Fanny,  her  cheeks  glowing.  "  Dear  me,  I 
hope  she  didn't  wish  I  was  dead.  What 
would  mamma  say  to  such  a  wicked  tem- 
per ?  Cad  is  capable  of  being  very  naughty, 

though  she  is  such  a  steady  little  thing.  What 
/ 

a  dreadful  awful  thing  to  wish  her  sister  dead 
— if  she  did,  and  I'm  afraid  that  was  just  what 
she  said  in  her  heart." 

All   this   time   she  had   been  braiding   her 


36        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

glossy  brown  hair.  Very  pretty  it  was,  darker 
than  Cad's,  with  just  a  dash  of  gold  making  it 
lustrous.  After  it  was  in  order,  she  turned  to 
her  bureau,  and  again  opened  the  top  drawer. 

"  Cad's  things  never  looked  like  that,"  she 
said,  with  a  self-approving  smile,  and  indeed 
the  small  receptable  was  quite  a  picture. 
Every  thing  was  in  beautiful  order;  there  were 
boxes  for  ribbons,  for  handkerchiefs,  for  all 
the  various  little  articles  of  the  toilet — sym- 
metry and  delicacy  of  detail  everywhere. 

Opening  her  ribbon  box,  it  disclosed  a 
little  rainbow  of  colors — blue,  pink,  crimson, 
orange,  purple.  All  these  silken  treasures 
were  carefully  folded  away. 

"To  be  sure  she  might  wear  some  other 
color  just  as  well  as  not;  pink  for  instance, 
was  always  becoming;  but  she  had  said  blue, 
and  blue  it  should  be,  even  if  it  was  Cad's 
favorite  color,  and  Cad  should  break  her  heart 
over  it.  It  would  never  do  to  yield;  Cad 
would  presume  upon  it,  and  bother  her  at  all 
times  and  seasons."  Her  brow  grew  wrinkled 


Ribbons.  37 

as  she  stood  there,  perplexed  and  undecided. 
Why  not  go  to  her  sister's  door  and  say, 
"  Cad,  wear  the  blue  if  you  like  ?  I'll  give  up." 

Once  her  hand  was  on  the  lock,  but  that 
perverse  little  spirit  that  is  no  respecter  of 
persons,  but  dwells  alike  in  the  hearts  of 
young  and  old,  triumphed,  as  it  too  often 
does,  and  gave  Fanny  one  chance  the  less  for 
happiness. 

"  I  don't  care,"  was  her  defiant  ejaculation, 
when  the  pretty  ribbon,  after  a  series  of  patient 
efforts  to  let  itself  be  tied,  snuggled  down  into 
an  irreproachable  bow  and  knot.  "  I  told  Cad 
I  should  wear  it,  and  I  will.  I  wonder  what 
she  will  wear?" 

Her  glance  into  the  mirror  as  she  finished 
gave  her  no  pleasure.  She  began  to  sing, 
seeing  it  wanted  some  time  to  the  dinner  hour 
yet;  but  the  effort  was  a  spiritless  one,  so  she 
went  into  the  nursery.  Her  room  was  be- 
tween Cad's  and  Kate's. 

Presently  Cad  came  smiling  out  of  Kate's 
room.  Fanny's  heart  misgave  her. 


38        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbtnu. 

"What  have  you  been  in  there  for,  Cad?" 
she  asked,  following  her  sister. 

"  Nothing  you  care  for,"  said  Cad,  a  little 
saucily. 

Presently  Kate  came  out. 

Fanny  took  up  a  book,  and  pretended  to 
read,  but  curiosity,  a  little  imp  that  never  yet 
knew  how  to  lie  dormant,  got  the  better  of  her 
indifference. 

"  What  did  Cad  want  in  your  room,  Kate  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  She  wanted  me  to  do  something  for  her." 

"  Did   you  lend  her  a  ribbon  ?" 

"  Why,  no,"  replied  Kate,  gravely;  "she  has 
ribbons  enough  of  her  own." 

"  Just  as  if  she  should  be  humored  in  every 
thing!"  muttered  Fanny. 

"  Cad  is  a  generous  little  thing,"  said  Kate. 

Fanny  winced.  "Then  I  suppose  she  told 
you  about  the  ribbon." 

"  She  was  crying  a  little,  dear,  and  I  asked 
her,"  said  Kate,  cautiously.  "  I'm  sure  it  was 
natural ;  she  didn't  mean  to  tattle." 


Ribbons.  39 

"  I  don't  see  why  two  of  us  can't  wear  one 
color  if  we  like,"  said  Fanny,  pettishly. 

"  If  it  don't  please  mamma,  I  think  that  is 
reason  enough." 

"  Well,  then,  Cad's  '  angel'  is  very  arbitrary," 
responded  Fanny,  hotly. 

"O,  Fanny!" 

"  Other   children   wear   what   they  please." 

"  Buf  perhaps  mamma's  rule,  if  carried  out, 
would  make  us  more  self-sacrificing." 

Fanny's  cheeks  turned  crimson. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  change  now,  at  any  rate," 
she  said,  in  a  low  voice;  "there  isn't  time; 
besides,  I'm  the  oldest,  and  have  a  right  to 
wear  blue  straight  along,  if  I  like." 

"  In  love  preferring  others  to  yourself,"  said 
Kate,  and  Fanny  knew  what  she  meant;  it 
was  her  mother's  favorite  saying.  She  turned 
away,  quite  convinced,  but  unwilling  to  say  so. 
Suddenly  she  remembered  an  act  of  self-denial 
Cad  had  practised  in  her  behalf  only  the  week 
before. 

A  friend  had  sent  the  three  girls  three  pretty 


4O        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

aprons  as  presents.  Fanny's  was  buff,  elabo- 
rately braided  with  blue.  Kate's  white,  edged 
with  scarlet;  and  Cad's  white,  embroidered  in 
black.  This  last  was  undeniably  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  three,  and  so  Mrs.  Winfield 
decided.  Fanny  looked  at  it  longingly,  but 
said  nothing,  and  Cad  took  the  apron  to  her 
room  in  high  glee.  But  Fanny's  longing  face 
haunted  her,  and  the  little  creature  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  she  gave  pleasure  to 
others. 

That  night,  when  Fanny  went  to  her  room, 
she  found  a  neat  parcel  on  her  table,  on  which 
lay  the  following  note: 

"Dear  Sister  Fanny — I  much  rather  you 
would  have  the  black  and  white.  It  is  rather 
too  old  for  me,  I  guess.  I  told  mother,  and 
she  was  quite  willing.  Don't  say  a  word,  but 
only  hand  me  the  buff  and  blue  one  to-morrow. 
It  is  all  my  own  doing,  and  I  rather  you  would 
have  it  I  like  the  buff  and  blue. 

"Your  lovingr  CAD." 


Ribbons.  41 

Fanny's  cheeks  grew  hotter  as  she  remem- 
bered this  nice,  sisterly  little  note.  She  felt 
like  pulling  off  the  blue  ribbon,  which  was 
hateful  to  her  now,  but  just  then  the  dinner- 
bell  ran°f. 


CHAPTER  V. 


A    H  O  M  E-K.  I  N  G. 


"  There  is  on  earth  no  blessing  like  affection, 
It  soothes,  it  hallows,  elevates,  subdues." 


ANNY'S  first  glance  at  the  dinner- 
table  was  towards  Cad,  after  all  were 
seated  and  a  blessing  had  been  asked. 
To  her  consternation,  Cad  wore  a 
lovely  blue  bow,  all  striped  with  white  satin. 
Where  in  the  world  had  the  child  managed  to 
find  it?  thought  Fanny.  She  had  never  seen 
it  before. 

Cad  bridled  a   little,  and  looked  conscious 
and  triumphant. 

Such  very  little  things  make  people  happy 
or  miserable;  such  very  little  things  awaken 
perversities  and  jealousies.     A   miner's  lamp 
42 


A  PIome-King.  43 

holds  a  very  small  flame,  and  yet  many  an 
explosion  has  been  caused  by  its  tiny  wick. 

All  through  the  dinner-hour,  though  her 
favorite  dishes  graced  the  table,  Fanny  could 
think  of  nothing  but  that  wonderfully  pretty 
blue  and  white  ribbon.  Once  she  noticed  a 
comical  side-glance  pass  between  Cad  and 
Kate,  and  the  mouthful  of  golden  salmon 
almost  choked  her. 

"  Hateful  things  !"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I 
should  like  to  know  what  the  secret  is.  They 
just  mean  to  make  me  feel  bad.  I  wish  I  had 
worn  any  thing  but  blue;  I  never  shall  like 
it  again."  • 

She  did  not  once  wish  she  had  pleasantly 
yielded  to  Cad,  and  so  saved  herself  some 
mortification. 

Fanny's  attention  was  soon  diverted,  how- 
ever, by  something  her  father  was  telling  Mrs. 
Winfield  in  relation  to  a  little  West  Indian 
cousin ;  but  still  Cad's  top-knot,  as  she  sarcas- 
tically called  it,  predominated,  and  she  only 
half-heard. 


44        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Mr.  Winfield  often  took  his  children  into 
his  confidence.  He  never  neglected  them 
because  they  were  children,  never  thought 
they  were  too  young  to  trust,  never  left  them 
wholly  to  the  guardianship  of  their  mother. 
He  was  a  wise,  strong,  faithful,  affectionate 
father.  All  their  little  wants  interested  him; 
their  griefs  were  not  too  trivial  to  enlist  his 
warm  sympathies. 

The  children  looked  up  to  him  with  an 
affectionate  reverence,  which  made  him  seem 
a  king  among  them.  His  blue  eyes,  broad, 
clear  brow,  red  lips,  and  the  glowing  smile 
so  full  of  the  heart's  sunshine,  won  for  him 
lavish  praise  in  that  little  circle,  an  intense 
love  and  admiration  which  kings  might  envy. 

"  I  wonder  what  shops  were  bought  out 
to-day;"  he  said,  as  they  rose  from  the  table- 
"  I  saw  a  certain  charming  lady  driving  home, 
smothered  in  bundles." 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  laughed  his  wife. 
"  I  have  only  bought  new  suits  for  the  chil- 
dren." 


A  Home-King.  45 

"  You  didn't  buy  me  a  suit  though — it  was 
only  the  girls;"  said  Phil,  with  the  shadow 
of  a  sneer  on  his  spirited  face.  "  I  go  and 
get  my  measure  taken,  and  every  thing  comes 
home,  made." 

"  I  wouldn't  give  one  of  my  girls  for  two 
of  you,  my  man,"  said  Mr.  Winfield.  Phil's 
boyish  assumption  of  superiority  was  very 
disagreeable  to  him.  The  boy  was  always 
derogating  from  the  sisterly  element,  making 
it  appear  weak,  and  also  something  to  be 
ashamed  of. 

"  Our  Phil  must  learn  to  treat  his  sisters 
with  respect;"  he  often  said  to  his  wife.  "It 
will  be  the  boy's  salvation,  rough  little  cub. 
that  he  is." 

Phil  felt  the  reproof  that  his  father's  words 
conveyed,  and  sheepishly  hung  his  head.  Pro- 
tected by  a  social  life  that  was  calculated  to 
bring  out  all  his  best  energies,  he  yet  held 
aloof  from  "  tke  girls,"  and  lost  something  of 
the  refining  process  which  his  rough  nature 
needed.  He  had  been  a  sort  of  a  little  Pariah 


46        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

from  his  infancy.  Having  been  sent  to  a 
school  far  from  home  after  his  mother's  death, 
three  years  among  kindred  spirits  had  nearly 
caused  the  ruin  of  his  finer  impulses.  His 
father  saw  and  regretted  the  mischief  that 
had  been  wrought,  and  decided  that  his  edu- 
cation should  henceforth  be  carried  on  at 
home. 

Phil  rebelled  stoutly  for  some  time,  but 
Mrs.  Winfield,  "angel"  as  she  assuredly  was 
to  him,  brought  all  her  noble  talents  to  bear 
upon  his  reformation.  Not  that  the  boy  was 
in  any  way  really  vicious,  but  rough,  uneasy, 
and  utterly  lacking  in  veneration  for  the 
sweeter  proprieties  of  home-life.  He  had 
made  sufficient  progress,  however,  to  cause 
his  father  to  feel  more  hopeful  of  his  future. 
The  boy  was  a  bright,  handsome,  though 
almost  incorrigibly  awkward  and  bashful  fel- 
low, of  a  temperament  easy  to  be  misunder- 
stood, and  very  sullen  under  %ttack,  though 
readily  following  the  voice  of  kindness. 

His  father  early  labelled  him  a  curiosity,  and 


A  Home-King.  47 

willingly  gave  him  into  the  skilful  hands  of 
his  wife. 

The  boy  skulked  off  as  the  rest  of  the  chil- 
dren followed  their  parents  into  the  sitting- 
room,  where  the  purchases  were  laid  out  for 
inspection.  It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  Mr. 
Winfield  looking  them  over,  and  comparing 
notes  with  his  wife  as  to  the  becomingness  of 
color  and  texture. 

"Pure  and  beautiful,"  he  said,  holding  up 
a  pale  blue  silk  pattern.  "I  hope  my  Kate  will 
think  of  that  every  time  she  puts  it  on,  and 
let  the  inner  temple  correspond  with  the  outer 
decoration. 

"And  here  is  white  for  our  little  Cad — 
spotless  as  the  snow,  and  transparent  as  her 
thoughts  and  motives  ought  to  be,"  he  added, 
making  her  quite  a  little  princess  as  he  threw 
the  voluminous  folds  over  her  curly  head. 

"This  for  Fanny,"  he  continued.  "What 
color  do  you  call  it.  O,  maize — like  pale, 
beaten  gold,  cool  and  lustrous.  My  dear,  do 
you  study  their  dispositions  so  accurately  as 


48        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

to  match  them  with  color?  Fanny  will  be 
like  an  ear  in  the  silk,  and  shine  in  her  good 
deeds,  I  hope." 

"  Come  girls,"  he  added,  in  a  hearty  voice, 
as  he  watched  them  delightedly  admiring  the 
fabrics,  "away  with  your  fineries,  after  thank- 
ing mamma  for  her  nice  gifts.  Bring  in  Prince 
Charlie ;  turn  the  gas  higher,  and  let  us  have 
music — with  light. 

The  Winfield  sitting-room  was  the  admira- 
tion of  all  who  saw  it.  Its  situation  was  in 
the  west  wing,  and  eight  lofty  windows  let  in 
the  light  from  roof  to  floor.  Cad  sometimes 
called  it  the  Cathedral  room.  All  sorts  of 
cosy  easy-chairs  abounded.  Great  ottomans, 
heaped  with  cushions,  stood  at  convenient 
distances,  a  crystal  chandelier  hung  suspend- 
ed from  the  centre  of  the  ceiling,  each  burner 
the  fac-simile  of  a  wax  candle.  The  curtains 
were  gray  and  crimson.  There  was  an  upright 
piano,  there  were  recesses  filled  with  books, 
A  great  round  table  stood  in  the  corner, 
which  the  children  designated  as  their  study, 


A  Home-King.  49 

and  where,  daily,  Mrs.  Winfield  heard  them 
recite.  Globes  and  maps  and  pictures  were 
all  in  appropriate  niches — but  the  busiest, 
prettiest,  most  cheerful  spot  of  all,  was  at  the 
central  table,  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  fire  of 
blazing  sea-coal;  the  table  around  which  all 
gathered,  with  its  wide  cloth  of  crimson,  and 
the  great  Turkish  rug  at  their  feet,  where 
Grim,  the  family  cat,  sat  and  surveyed  them 
one  by  one,  purring  her  satisfaction,  or  else 
held  her  sleepy  head  between  her  paws,  giving 
now  and  then  a  blink  for  assent,  when  she 
considered  that  her  opinion  was  called  for. 
The  floor  was  of  polished  inlaid  wood, 
brightened  here  and  there  by  exquisite  rugs 
and  circular  mats;  altogether,  it  was  just  the 
room  for  children  to  be  happy  in. 

Barton  brought  in  the  baby,  and  after  a  kiss 
all  round,  and  no  end  of  hugs,  as  Cad  said, 
he  was  snuggled  down  by  Grim,  who  allowed 
his  little  fat  hands  to  disarrange  the  niceties 
of  her  pretty  fur- toilette,  and  sang  to  herself 
as  if  she  liked  it. 
4 


5o        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Phil  went  over  to  the  globes,  partly  because 
they  were  always  a  source  of  delight  to  him, 
partly  because  he  liked  to  be  out  of  the  way, 
and  occupy  himself  with  vain  wishing,  that 
there  was  another  grown  boy  to  keep  him  in 
countenance. 

Mr.  Winfield  stretched  himself  upon  a 
lounge,  "  to  take  it  easy,"  as  he  said,  and  get 
the  cobwebs  pulled  out  of  his  tired  brain.  Fire- 
light and  gas-light  flooded  the  whole  room, 
which  was  already  full  of  crimson  flushes. 

"  This  is  my  kingdom,  my  paradise,"  he 
mentally  ejaculated,  as  his  eyes  wandered 
about  the  beautiful  space,  and  his  soul  drank 
in  the  music  of  the  sweet  ballad  Kate  was 
singing.  "I  wonder" — and  a  shadow  fell  on 
his  brow,  but  no  one  heard  the  sigh  that 
came  with  it — "  if  any  other  place  in  all  this 
world  would  ever  seem  like  it?" 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  unexpressed  thought, 
his  wife  spoke  up : 

"The  parlor  at  Redbow  is  very  much  like 
this  room." 


A  Home- King.  51 

"Ah!  out  in  the  wilderness.  I  should 
hardly  think  it  possible,"  he  said. 

"  Not  quite  so  spacious,  or  beautifully  fur- 
nished; indeed,  it  is  a  plain  room,  and  there 
are  fewer  windows.  But  on  the  south,  there's 
a  noble  bay  window,  and  on  the  west,  two 
nearly  as  high  as  these.  The  chief  beauty 
of  the  room,  however,  is  an  oval  of  plate-glass, 
larger  than  our  parlor  mirror,  let  into  the  wall, 
giving  one  of  the  most  splendid  views  of 
forest  scenery,  of  rocks  and  leaping  cascades, 
that  ever  the  blue  heavens  shone  upon." 

Mr.  Winfield  smiled  at  his  wife's  enthusi- 
asm, noting  with  all  a  lover's  admiration  the 
glow  which  made  her  sweet  face  so  lovely. 

"  The  name  is  a  pleasant  one,"  he  said. 

"  Redbow — yes,  as  pleasant  as  the  mountain 
is  grand,"  she  responded  ;  "  but  the  house  is 
smaller  than  this,  and  it  looks  a  little  forbid- 
ding from  the  outside,  because,  being  built  of 
unhewn  brown  stone  it  is  rough  and  full  of 
projections ;  but  the  place  is  lovely  with  ivy, 
the  first  root  of  which  was  brought  from 


52        The  Little  Folks  of  RedbffW. 

Lincolnshire  by  an  old  founder  of  the  family. 
Indeed,  there  are  very  many  less  comfortable 
homes  than  dear  old  Redbow  would  make." 

It  was  curious  that  she  should  have  thought 
of  the  charming  old  place  at  that  particular 
moment,  for  she  seldom  spoke  of  it.  It  was 
her  own  property,  and  had  been  settled  on 
her  since  her  marriage,  by  a  distant  relative, 
who  had  now  been  dead  a  year.  The  place 
was  in  a  county-town  some  fifty  miles  from 
the  city  in  which  the  Winfields  resided,  and 
she  had  not  seen  it  since  her  childhood. 

"  We  will  go  and  pay  it  a  visit  some  time, 
dear,"  said  her  husband,  quietly. 

"And  I  am  sure  you  will  wish  to  take 
instant  possession  of  it,"  laughed  his  wife.  "  I 
foresee  that  you  will  fall  in  love  instantly  with 
grand  old  Redbow.  I  never  thought  it  would 
be  mine,  but  I  am  glad;"  and  a  sweet  smile 
parted  her  lips. 

"  In  case  of  any  misfortune" — the  words 
had  not  passed  his  lips  when  her  smile  faded, 
and  she  looked  anxiously  toward  him. 


A  Home-King^  53 

"I  was  only  thinking,"  he  said,  with  a  smile 
so  bright  that  the  cloud  through  which  she 
had  regarded  him  vanished  at  once. 

An  hour  passed  swiftly;  music,  games,  and 
now  and  then  a  little  romping,  gave  the  chil- 
dren plenty  to  do.  Barton,  in  the  back-ground, 
was  crooning  the  baby  to  sleep  with  the  fag 
end  of  an  old  English  ballad;  Phil  sat  curled 
up  in  his  remote  corner,  studying  Alaska,  his 
chin  on  his  hands,  and  his  eyes  partially 
closing  in  spite  of  himself. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"THERE'S    GIRL.3    ENOUGH." 

"  And  I  tell  ye  a  story,  a  story  so  merry, 
Concerning  the  abbot  of  Canterbury." 

ERE,  my  chits,"  said  Mr.  Winfield, 
suddenly  rousing  himself  from  the 
reverie   into   which    he    had  fallen, 
"  what  say  you  to  a  story,  a  genu- 
ine, live,  true  story?" 

Another  moment  and  a  merry  audience  had 
gathered  round  him,  all  breathless  and  flushed 
with  play.  All  but  Phil,  and  he  was  fast 
asleep.  So  was  Prince  Charlie,  and  nurse  had 
just  set  another  row  of  crimson  stitches;  the 
baby's  basket-cradle  stood  at  her  feet. 

Mr.  Winfield  smiled  at  the  expectant  group ; 
perhaps  no  one  noticed  that  the  smile  was  a 
sad  one. 

54 


There's  Girls  Enough.  55 

"Once  upon  a  time" — he  began;  every  eye 
was  fixed  upon  him;  the  girls  drew  long 
breaths — "once  upon  a  time  a  young  man 
went  out  into  the  world  to  seek  his  fortune." 

They  looked  at  each  other,  every  happy 
face  bright.  Nobody  could  tell  a  story  quite 
equal  to  papa. 

"  The  young  man  was  handsome,  ardent, 
daring  and  ambitious.  In  a  far  off  country 
where  frost  was  never  seen,  where  all  the 
year  round  flowers  bloom  and  fruits  ripen,  and 
palm  trees  whisper  to  the  stars,  their  nearest 
relations,  he  found  a  post  of  duty.  When  he 
left  his  own  home,  there  was  great  sorrow 
there.  The  old  father  and  mother  wept  to 
think  they  might  never  see  their  son  any 
more.  They  never  did.  Five  years  passed 
and  they  were  gone — laid  to  rest  in  the  old 
church  yard  of  their  native  town.  The  news 
that  they  were  dead  made  the  young  man  sor- 
rowful, but  his  lot  was  cast  in  that  far  off  coun- 
try ;  his  business  prospered,  he  had  married  a 
gentle,  beautiful  lady,  and  was  content  to  stay. 


56        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  Lovely  children  were  given  him,  and  they 
made  his  home  more  charming  still — but  alas, 
they  died,  one  after  the  other,  before  their 
little  lips  had  learned  to  speak  his  name. 
One  child,  however,  survived  her  infancy, 
but  when  this  dear  little  girl  was  nearly 
seven  years  old,  a  great  misfortune  hap- 
pened to  her — her  mother  died." 

"Wasn't  that  dreadful?"  murmured  Cad, 
whose  arms  embraced  an  imaginary  doll,  and 
whose  eyes  and  lips  in  their  droll  sympathetic 
working  had  been  a  sight  to  see. 

"Yes,  it  was  very  dreadful,  because  this 
young  man  was  so  far  away  from  all  his 
kindred,  and  surrounded  by  strange,  clannish, 
and  uncongenial  associates.  The  poor  little 
child  had  none  but  native  servants,  and  her 
little  wants  were  but  rudely  cared  for." 

"  How  long  ago  did  all  this  happen,  papa?" 
asked  Kate. 

"Two  years,  dear — that  is,  it  is  two  years 
now  since  the  child's  mother  died." 

"Why,  uncle  Harry's  wife  died   two  years 


There  s   Girls  Enough.  57 

ago  in  India !"  and  up  went  Fanny's  hand  in 
her  eagerness,  as  if  craving  permission  to 
speak  during  lesson-hours.  They  all  laughed 
at  this,  and  Fanny's  eyes  began  to  look  very 
curious. 

"Fanny  is  right,"  said  Mr.  Winfield,  gently; 
"  she  has  guessed  my  story" 

"I  thought  it  was  little  cousin  Rosalind;" 
said  Kate. 

"  Linda,  her  papa  calls  her  in  his  letters," 
responded  Cad,  with  a  grave  nod  towards 
Kate. 

"  Yes,  girls,  it  was  of  your  cousin  Linda 
and  her  father,  that  I  have  been  telling  you. 
I  received  a  letter  from  my  brother  Harry 
to-day.  Linda,  the  little  girl,  is  on  her  way 
to  America." 

"On  the  great  ocean  this  minute!"  said 
Cad,  with  solemn  -eyes.  "  O  papa,  is  she 
coming  here  ?" 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Mr.  Winfield  was 
looking  thoughtfully  at  the  fire ;  nurse,  in  her 
interest,  had  dropped  three  red  stitches. 


58        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"That  is  as   mamma  says,"  was  the  reply. 

All  eyes  were  turned  to  Mrs.  Winfield.  Cad 
fell  down  by  the  side  of  her  "  angel,"  and  her 
great  pathetic  eyes  were  so  imploring,  that  the 
mother  could  not  forbear  laughing. 

"When  mamma  smiles,  she  means  yes;" 
said  Cad,  and  in  her  mind  the  matter  was 
settled.  She  hugged  her  mother's  knees  a 
little,  and  then  sprang  up  to  see  what  her 
father  had  to  say. 

"  Of  course  she  will  come,"  they  all  said 
together. 

"  Not   too    fast,    children,"    continued    Mr. 

*• 

Winfield.  "  Remember  this  poor  little  girl 
may  not  prove  to  be  the  most  agreeable  of 
companions.  She  has  been  left  to  the  care 
of  ignorant  servants,  petted,  thwarted,  and 
punished  by  turns.  Possibly  she  is  spoiled. 
Harry  hints  as  much,  and  describes  her  as 
being  a  little  dark  firebrand,  wilful  and  pas- 
sionate. She  might  keep  us  in  hot  water. 
Her  father  writes  me  that  I  am  at  liberty 
to  place  her  in  a  good  boarding-school:  but, 


There 's  Girls  Enough.  59 

poor  little  motherless  wean!  it  would  seem 
hard  to  do  that." 

"O,  papa,  it  would  be  downright  cruel!" 
said  impulsive  Fanny. 

"  I  think  Fanny  is  right,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield 
in  her  sweet,  low  voice. 

"  Mamma,  you  are  just  an  angel !"  exclaimed 
Cad,  with  enthusiasm,  and  tripping  on  the 
rug  as  she  flew  to  kiss  her,  fell  plump  into 
her  arms,  to  the  amusement  of  the  whole 
company. 

"  What  says  Kate  ?"  queried  her  father,  when 
they  were  quiet  again. 

"I  hope  mamma  will  decide  to  take  her; 
besides,"  she  added  after  a  thoughtful  pause, 
"she  might  be  a  wholesome  discipline." 

There  was  another  outburst  of  merriment 
at  this  sage  speech,  so  loud  that  it  waked 
Phil  up,  and  that  young  savage  chose  to  fancy 
that  he  was  the  cause  of  the  general  mirth. 

"It's  all  girls  know;"  he  said  wrathfully. 
"  I  suppose  you  think  I've  been  asleep.  I 
hain't ;  I  heard  every  word." 


60        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Come  now,  what  have  we  been  talking 
about?"  asked  Cad,  going  towards  him. 

"It's  Dives  and  Lazarus,  I  bet;"  said  Phil, 
sleepily.  "You  girls  are  such  fools!" 

This  reached  his  father's  ear. 

"  Phil,"  he  said  sternly,  "  if  I  did  not  make 
due  allowance  for  your  long  nap,  and  conse- 
quent stupidity,  I  should  punish  you  for  that 
speech.  You  must  take  it  back,  sir." 

Phil  put  on  his  hardest  face. 

"  They're  always  laughing  at  a  fellow,"  he 
muttered. 

"Take  it  back,  sir,"  repeated  his  father, 
rising. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Phil,  a  little  scared,  retreat- 
ing into  his  corner,  where  he  protested  in 
dumb  show,  and  scowled  in  silent  indignation. 

Cad,  always  pitiful,  crept  round  to  his  side 
and  told  him  the  news,  which  quite  scared 
away  his  temper.  The  boy's  face  was  a  study, 
as  he  exclaimed: 

"Another  girl!"  and  he  turned  the  globe 
rapidly,  till  he  found  India.  "  There's  where 


There's  Girls  Enough.  61 

she  was ;  why  couldn't  she  stay  there  ?  It's  a 
great  deal  nicer  place  than  this.  Folks  ride 
on  elephants.  I  wouldn't  a  come,  but" — 
and  his  face  lighted  up — "  maybe  she'll  be 
drowned." 

"You  dreadful  boy!"  gasped  Cad. 

"  I  shouldn't  cry,"  retorted  Phil,  twirling 
the  globe;  "there's  girls  enough." 

"And  boys  are  just  as  wicked  as  they  can 
be,"  said  Cad ;  "  I'm  glad  I  haven't  got  a  boy 
in  all  my  family. 

"Girls  make  'em  so,"  was  Phil's  senten- 
tious reply.  "Your  family!  what's  dolls?" 
with  a  sneer. 

The  controversy  was  broken  in  upon  just 
here,  and  the  little  folks  sent  off  for  the 
night. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HEROIC    PHIL.. 

Aromatic  plants  bestow 
No  spicy  fragrance  while  they  grow; 
But  crushed,  or  trodden  to  the  ground, 
Diffuse  their  balmy  sweets  around." 

N  discussing  affairs  of  state,  men  and 
children  are  somewhat  alike;  they 
are  both  liable  to  be  carried  away 
with  enthusiastic  impulses,  and  rate 
the  prospective  benefits  much  higher  than 
their  merits  warrant.  So  in  the  little  state 
convention  held  in  the  nursery  that  night,  for 
the  children  were  allowed  a  reasonable  amount 
of  time  in  which  to  talk  over  matters,  the 
girls  were  nearly  wild  with  anticipation. 

"  I    am   sure   it   will    be   splendid !"    cried 
Fanny. 

62 


Heroic  Phil.  63 

"Its  just  like  going  to  have  a  grand  Christ- 
mas present,"  said  Cad;  "though  to  be  sure, 
we  know  what  it  will  be." 

"We  must  be  very  kind  to  her,"  said  Kate, 
seriouslyC  "Of  course  she  can't  help  liking 
such  a  home  as  this;  but  then  every  thing 
will  be  so  new  to  her." 

"  Snow  and  ice  instead  of  oranges,  for' 
instance,"  said  Fanny.  "The  square  looked 
like  a  frosted  plum-cake  this  morning.  O, 
girls,  wont  she  be  a  curiosity  to  us  ?  I  won- 
der if  she  will  bring  presents,  and  of  course 
there'll  be  no  end  of  splendid  dresses ;  uncle 
Harry  is  rich,  you  know — enormously  rich  I 
have  heard ;  and  stuffs  from  India  are  always 
costly  and  beautiful." 

Cad  had  begun  to  undress  Petkin,  enliven- 
ing the  occupation  by  a  little  serious  talk  to 
that  passive  young  lady,  who  was  supposed 
to  be  too  sleepy  to  hold  her  eyes  open. 

"My  darling,"  she  said  in  an  undertone, 
"you  mustn't  mind  what  your  Aunt  Fanny 
says  about  dress.  Don't  give  your  little  mind 


64        The  Little  Folks  of  Rcdbow. 

up  to  vanity  and  fine  clothes,  or  else  I  shall 
make  you  wear  calico  to  the  end  of  your  life. 
I  won't  have  pride  and  nonsense." 

Kate  was  putting  things  in  place.  It  was 
her  duty  to  make  the  nursery  thoroughly 
presentable  before  she  went  to  bed. 

"  I  suppose  she  will  bring  fine  clothes," 
she  said  quietly;  "but  I  don't  care  for  that. 
We  all  dress  well  enough;  what  I  want,  is  to 
find  her  pleasant  and  attractive,  but  I'm  afraid 
she  will  be  very  selfish  and  hard  to  please." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Petkin  ?"  murmured 
Cad,  tying  the  doll's  nightcap  strings,  ""self- 
ishness is  abominable." 

"There,  now  you're  going  back  on  her," 
cried  Fanny,  in  answer  to  Kate's  remark. 

"I  go  back  on  her!"  said  Kate,  laughing; 
"why  I  shall  do  my  very  best  to  make  her 
happy,  and  even  if  she  should  be  very  disa- 
greeable, I  shall  remember  that  she's  a  poor 
little  orphan  girl.  Just  think  what  a  set  we 
were  till  dear  dear  Miss  Willis  came." 
"Odd  enough  that  sounds;"  said  Fanny. 


Heroic  Phil.  65 

"I  remember,"  piped  Cad;  "you  and  Kate 
used  to  fight  awful." 

"  Yes,  we  were  savages  almost,"  murmured 
Kate. 

"  I  'spose  I  was  as  bad  as  any  of  you,"  said 
Cad,  sagely  tucking  Petkin  snugly  away  in 
her  four-post  bedstead  with  its  miniature  quilt 
and  ruffled  pillows.  Then  looking  intently 
.into  dolly's  staring  eyes  with  motherly  sym- 
pathy, she  whispered  dolly's  prayers. 

Fanny  always  laughed  at  that,  but  it  was 
one  of  Cad's  soberest  duties. 

"  If  cousin  Linda  comes,  Cad,  she  will  make 
a  raid  among  your  dolls." 

"  She  shall  have  them  all,"  said  Cad  in  a 
generous  outburst;  "at  least,  I'll  give  her  her 
choice ;"  she  added,  after  a  moment  of  medi- 
tation— "  provided  she  don't  pick  out  the  very 
best.  And  I'm  going  to  ask  mamma  to  let 
her  sleep  with  me ;  my  bed's  the  biggest,  and 
I  shall  so  love  to  dress  and  take  care  of  her." 

"  Well,  I  rather  think  your  older  sisters 
ought  to  have  that  privilege,"  said  Fanny. 


66        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Privilege!"  exclaimed  Kate:  "I  should 
call  it  an  infliction." 

"  Kate  is  surely  going  back  on  her,"  said 
Fanny  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  Going  back," 
was  Phil's  favorite  expression. 

"  How  foolishly  you  talk,  Fanny.  I  was 
only  thinking  that  you  two  youngsters  will 
soon  tire  of  the  '  privilege'  and  turn  her  over 
to  me." 

"  She  may  be  drowning  this  very  moment !" 
said  Cad  with  a  scared  face.  "  I  shut  my  eyes 
and  saw  a  great  ship  all  on  fire,  like  that  in 
the  picture  down  stairs;  and  O,  dear  me,  she 
may  never  come  here  at  all!" 

"  I  advise  you  to  keep  your  eyes  open,'* 
laughed  Kate,  "and  see  I  have  put  every 
thing  to  rights — and  you  had  better  go  to 
bed,  both  of  you." 

"  One  would  think  you  had  the  control  of 
this  family,"  said  Fanny,  pertly;  but  she 
kissed  her  sisters  and  went  into  her  own 
little  room.  The  moon,  large  and  yellow, 
brightened  every  object  visible,  so  that  there 


Heroic  Phil.  67 

was  no  need  of  any  other  lights.  Fanny, 
while  taking  off  her  blue  ribbon,  suddenly 
remembered  that  she  had  forgotten  to  ask 
Cad  about  the  blue  and  white  bow;  so  she 
ran  out  softly  and  knocked  at  Cad's  door. 
The  little  girl  lifted  her  head  from  the  pillow 
as  Fanny,  shining  white  in  the  moonlight, 
stood  at  the  foot  of  her  bed. 

"  I  say,  Cad,"  whispered  Fanny,  "where  did 
you  get  your  blue  and  white  ribbon?" 

"O,  that's  a  secret,  I  guess,"  replied  Cad; 
her  rosy  face  suddenly  disappearing  in  the 
pillow. 

Fanny  stood  there,  perplexed  and  pro- 
voked. Cad  peeped  out,  and  something  in 
the  irresolute  face  conquered  her. 

"  It  partly  came  off  of  cigar-boxes,"  she  said, 
laughing. 

"Cad!" 

"  It's  a  fact.  You  know  Phil  gets  them  to 
make  houses  of — I  mean  the  boxes — and  they 
throw  in  a  handful  of  ribbons  sometimes.  He 
gave  them  to  Kate,  and  she  contrived  them, 


68        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

and  sewed  them  together.  Weren't  they 
lovely?"  and  Cad  sat  up  in  bed,  her  eyes 
shining. 

"I  mean  to  make  some,"  said  Fanny. 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to,"  said  Cad, 
pathetically,  her  countenance  falling. 

"Well,  I  won't,"  responded  Fanny. 

"  Come  and  kiss  me." 

Fanny  kissed  her. 

"Hug  me." 

Fanny  hugged  her  very  hard. 

"There!  now  we'll  never  speak  cross  to 
each  other  again,  will  we?" 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Fanny  with  some  hesi- 
tation. 

"Now,  go  right  to  bed;"  and  Cad's  face 
disappeared. 

"  I  am  going — but — Cad — " 

"Well;"  whispered  the  child. 

"You  know  when  you  came  out  of  my 
room  you  said  you  wished — now  what  did 
you  wish?" 

"  What  did  I  wish !"  murmured  Cad,  reflec- 


Heroic  Phil.  69 

tively  looking  at  the  moon.  "Let  me  think. 
O,  it  was  tnvfid,  Fanny.  I  wished  I  hadn't 
such  a  mean,  ungenerous  sister — there!  I 
did,  honest — wasn't  it  terrible?" 

Fanny  was  silent. 

"Are  you  angry  with  me?" 

"No,  dear." 

"  I'm  awful  sorry." 

"Don't  say  awful,  Cad." 

"  Sure  enough,  what  a  word !  and  I  never 
allow  my  Petkin  to  talk  slang.  Good-night, 
Fanny." 

Fanny  went  to  her  own  room  feeling  great 
relief  that  Cad's  wish  had  been  no  worse. 

"It  was  ugly  in  me,  though,"  she  murmured, 
blushing  at  the  recollection.  "I  don't  believe 
I  shall  ever  like  blue  so  well  again." 

At  that  moment  the  neighboring  church 
bells  rang  with  a  loud,  quick  clang.  The 
engines  rattled  along  the  streets,  and  there 
were  hoarse  cries  from  boys  and  firemen. 
Fanny  had  a  gj-eat  dread  of  fire ;  she  sprang 
from  the  bed ;  surely  that  lurid  light,  making 


70        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

every  object  crimson,  was  not  the  moon.  The 
fire  must  be  very  near  perhaps  their  own 
beautiful  house  was  in  danger.  There  were 
voices  in  the  nursery. 

"Barton!"  she  cried.  " Barton !  come  here, 
quick !" 

The  door  opened,  and  there  stood  Kate  in 

-her  night  dress.     In  the  red  reflection  of  the 

fire  she  looked  like  a  spirit.     The  bells  grew 

wilder;  hoarse  shouts  sounded  from  the  street. 

"Fanny,  it  looks  as  if  the  world  was  all 
ablaze,"  said  Kate. 

"O,  where  is  father?"  cried  Fanny  in  a 
paroxysm  of  terror.  "Only  hear  them — call 
papa !" 

"  He  has  gone  out.  He  sent  a  servant  up 
to  tell  us  to  be  quiet,  and  that  there  was  no 
danger  yet." 

"What  shall  we  do,  Kate?"  cried  Fanny, 
wringing  her  hands.  "  The  very  air  is  hot ;  I 
can  hardly  breathe.  I  know  the  fire  has 
reached  us;  see  the  sparks!  I'm  going  to 
pack  my  best  things  up." 


Heroic  Phil.  71 

Presently  Cad  came  in,  bewildered  and 
rubbing  her  eyes. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried.  "What  makes 
things  so  red  ?  It's  a  fire !  O,  Kate,  we  shall 
be  burned  up.  Fanny,  what  are  you  doing  ?" 

"I'm  going  to  turn  every  thing  out  into 
sheets,"  said  Fanny,  tugging  desperately  at 
the  bureau  drawers.  "There  you  stand,  and 
never  offer  to  help." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  dress  yourself  first  ?" 
asked  Kate,  half  laughing.  "I'm  not  afraid. 
Papa  will  let  us  know  in  plenty  of  time ;  he 
said  so." 

"  I  don't  care,"  retorted  Fanny.  "  I'm  not 
going  to  have  the  roof  on  fire  over  our  heads 
before  I  begin  to  save  things." 

By  this  time  the  bed  and  floor  were  strewed 
with  dresses,  ribbons,  laces,  and  a  great  plaid 
coverlet  had  been  called  into  requisition,  at 
whose  stubborn  corners  she  was  pulling  as  if 
her  life  depended  upon  the  exercise. 

"  I  guess  I'll  get  my  dolls  together,"  cried 
Cad,  bursting  into  tears.  "  The  cooking-stove 


72        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

must  go,  I  suppose,  and  all  the  kitchen  furni- 
ture; but  Maud  and  Felice,  and  poor  old 
Petkin,  I  can't  lose  them." 

"Cad,"  said  Kate  quietly,  "can't  you  believe 
papa  ?  It  seems  Fanny  wont,  but  I  think  you 
and  I  ought  to." 

Fanny  paused  a  moment  with  puzzled  face. 
She  remembered  what  unbounded  faith  she 
had  always  professed  in  her  father. 

"  Miss,"  said  nurse,  knocking  at  the  door 
some  moments  afterward,  "your  pa  sent  me 
to  say  that  there's  no  danger  now.  The  fire 
took  itself  another  way — it's  most  out,  too." 

Down  fell  the  corners  of  the  coverlet. 

"  Now  you've  got  everything  to  put  back," 
said  Cad,  laughing. 

"  I  might  have  known,"  muttered  impetuous 
Fanny,  and  bit  her  lip. 

.  "  You  should  have  had  more  faith  in  papa," 
said  grave  Kate.  "  But  never  mind — I'll  help 
you." 

"And  we'll  never  tell,  will  we?"  queried 
Cad,  roguishly. 


Heroic  Phil.  73 

"I  don't  want  any  help,"  Fanny  retorted, 
and  her  face  said  so  plainly  "  please  go  out," 
that  both  girls  left  her. 

When  they  had  gone,  she  could  have  cried 
for  very  shame.  There  was  at  least  an  hour's 
hard  work  before  her. 

"  It  serves  me  just  right,"  she  muttered, 
disconsolately.  "  I  might  have  known  papa's 
first  thought  is  always  for  us.  -Next  time 
I'll  believe." 

There  had,  however,  been  some  cause  for 
fear.  Mr.  Winfield  was  at  first  seriously 
alarmed,  and  had  been  back  and  forth  during 
the  progress  of  the  fire,  several  times. 

Phil,  who  had  not  thought  of  sleep'  when 
the  alarm  first  sounded,  was  on  his  feet  and 
at  the  window  in  a  twinkling.  He  ached  to 
be  on  the  street;  he  threw  up  the  sash  and 
shouted  himself  nearly  hoarse.  Finally,  for- 
getting all  considerations  of  loyalty  and  obe- 
dience, his  boy-nature  triumphed.  Hastily 
slipping  on  his  clothes,  he  found  his  way 
down  stairs  without  being  noticed,  ran  out 


74        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

of  the  house,  and  was  soon  amidst  the  throng 
of  noisy,  toiling  firemen. 

An  hour  after  that  Mr.  Winfield  returned. 
An  object  met  his  eyes  that  startled  him, 
begrimed,  covered  with  water  and  dirt,  and 
crouching  up  against  the  door. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked,  thinking  the 
creature  some  victim  of  the  fire,  shelterless 
and  beggared. 

A  face  was  lifted  up  in  the  clear  moonlight, 
and  a  hoarse  voice  said: 

"It's  me,  father!" 

Mr.  Winfield  stood  for  a  moment  like  one 
petrified;  he  could  scarcely  believe  the  evi- 
dence of  his  senses.  He  dared  not  trust 
himself  to  speak,  for  he  was  very  angry;  he 
only  opened  the  door  and  motioned  the 
culprit  in.  There,  under  the  glare  of  the 
gas,  stood  Philip,  dirty,  torn,  disgraced,  and 
as  his  father  thought,  defiant. 

"You  young  rascal!"  said  Mr.  Winfield, 
deliberately,  "  is  there  no  honor  in  you  ?  Do 
you  mean  to  grow  up  a  rebellious,  bad  man  ? 


Heroic  Phil.  75 

Go  to  your  room.  To-morrow  I  shall  punish 
you  severely.  See  here,  sir;  you  are  not  to 
leave  your  chamber  till  I  release  you.  Do 
you  hear  me?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Phil,  doggedly,  and  went 
creeping  up  stairs.  There  he  divested  himself 
of  his  soiled  clothes,  and  plunged  his  face  and 
hands  in  water.  And  now  one  might  see 
that  the  poor  red  hands  were  waled  with  red 
and  livid  stripes.  There  was  a  crimson  patch 
on  his  forehead;  his  hair  was  singed,  and  he 
crept  into  bed  smarting  from  head  to  foot,  and 
once  there,  he  turned  his  face  to  the  pillow 
and  wept  for  very  anguish. 

The  next  day  his  food  was  sent  up  to  him, 
and  the  next. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  day,  however, 
Mr.  Winfield  was  startled  by  the  call  of  a 
stranger,  who  asked  for  Phil. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  the  boy  ever  since 
the  fire,"  he  said,  "and  this  morning,  one  of 
the  hose  company  directed  me  here." 

Mr.    Winfield's    heart    throbbed    painfully. 


76        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

What  escapade  of  his  poor  wild  boy  was 
now  to  be  brought  to  light? 

"  He  has  already  been  punished  severely," 
he  said. 

"  Punished  !  punished  ?"  The  man  started 
from  his  seat.  "Why  sir,  I  have  come  to 
offer  him  one  hundred  dollars  for  his  bravery." 

It  was  Mr.  Winfield's  turn  to  be  astounded. 

"  Really,  sir,  I  don't  understand  what  you 
allude  to,  at  all.  The  boy  left  my  house  on 
the  night  of  the  fire ;  he  knew  it  was  against 
my  orders.  He  came  home  a  scarecrow,  wet 
and  draggled,  and  I  sent  him  to  his  room,  and 
have  kept  him  there." 

"  Poor  little  fellow — then  he  did  not  tell 
you  ?" 

"  He  told  me  nothing,  sir." 

The  man  smiled. 

"He's  a  splendid  little  man,"  he  said,  "and 
you  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  him.  When 
my  house  was  on  fire,  and  my  family  safely 
out,  my  little  lame  daughter,  an  invalid  from 
her  birth,  cried  bitterly  because  her  pet  canary 


Heroic  Phil.  77 

was  left  in  the  flames.  It  seems  your  boy 
stood  near  and  heard  her  cries.  I  offered  one 
hundred  dollars  to  any  fireman  who  would 
rescue  the  little  creature. 

"  But  mark  you,  before  I  had  offered  this 
reward,  your  son,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  in  my 
information,  had  plunged  into  the  house,  gone 
its  entire  length,  secured  the  cage,  dashed  out 
of  a  back  building,  gone  round  by  an  alley, 
and  given  the  bird  in  charge  of  some  person 
in  a  neighboring  street.  My  little  girl  was 
wild  with  joy  at  the  restoration  of  her  favorite. 
I  don't  know  but  its  loss  in  so  frightful  a 
manner  might  have  caused  her  death.  As  it 
is,  Dick  is  singing  in  his  cage  to-day,  and  I 
owe  this  pleasure  to  your  brave  little  son.  The 
fire  destroyed  the  house  I  lived  in,  but  beyond 
that  has  not  injured  me,  and  I  have  come  to 
give  this  money  to  the  boy  who  risked  his  life 
without  promise  of  fee  or  reward." 

Mr.  Winfield  listened  to  this  story  in  ex- 
treme surprise.  He  thought  of  that  night  and 
the  sorry  appearance  of  Phil;  he  thought  of 


78        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

his  heavy  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder;  his 
stern  words,  Phil's  uncomplaining  submission 
— his  lonely  vigils  in  his  own  room,  suffering, 
perhaps,  from  wounds,  bruises  and  burns. 

Barton  was  just  then  passing  the  door. 

"  Tell  master  Philip  I  wish  to  see  him,"  he 
said. 

The  two  men  waited  in  silence  till  the  boy 
came  down,  and  entered  the  room  with  a 
downcast  face.  The  spot  on  his  forehead 
had  blistered  and  was  much  discolored;  he 
hid  his  hands  awkwardly.  His  bright  face 
was  clouded  and  his  features  discomposed. 

"My  son!"  said  Mr.  Winfield,  an  unwonted 
tenderness  in  his  tones.  Phil  drew  a  long 
breath  and  his  lip  quivered,  but  his  eye  grew 
brighter.  Mr.  Winfield  was  unmanned;  he 
could  not  trust  his  voice,  but  nodded  to  the 
stranger. 

"I  have  come  to  reward  you,  my  boy,  for 
your  gallant  behavior  on  the  night  of  the  fire, 
in  saving  my  poor  little  girl's  pet  bird  from 
the  flames." 


Heroic  Phil.  79 

The  blood  rushed  all  over  Phil's  face;  his 
lips  worked,  he  looked  askance  at  his  father, 
and  then  his  head  fell  on  his  bosom. 

"Was  that  your  deed,  my  son?"  his  father 
asked. 

"I — yes  sir — I  went  into  the  house,  and  I — 
I  got  the  cage  down ;  'twas  pretty  hot,"  said 
Phil,  in  a  low  voice. 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other.  There 
were  tears  of  joy  in  Mr.  Winfield's  eyes. 
Although  the  act  of  disobedience  in  itself 
was  wrong,  yet  the  brave,  disinterested  deed 
of  his  boy  ennobled  him,  and  gave  the  father 
hope,  when  all  had  been  so  reprehensible 
before.  It  had  been  a  silent  heroism,  and 
proved  a  certain,  positive  grandeur  in  the 
boy's  character,  underlying  his  rudeness  and 
rashness. 

"I  have  one  hundred  dollars  here  for  you, 
my  boy,"  said  the  stranger. 

Phil  shook  his  head.  "  I'd  rather  not  take 
it,  sir,"  he  said  sturdily.  "  I  wouldn't  like  to 
have  money  for  it" 


8o        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"But  it  will  be  a  great  disappointment  to 
my  sick  little  girl,  who  asks  me  about  it 
every  day;  and  she  is  such  an  invalid  that  she 
must  be  gratified." 

Under  the  circumstances,  it  seemed  almost 
impossible  to  refuse  the  reward,  and  then  for 
the  rest  of  that  day  Phil  had  enough  of  hero- 
worship,  for  the  story  was  told  from  garret 
to  cellar.  Phil's  hands,  poor  boy,  were  dressed 
and  kissed  most  tenderly  by  Cad's  "angel," 
tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks  as  she  per- 
formed her  task. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  after  this,  I  shall 
always  think  the  best  of  you.  Don't  tell  me 
you  hate  girls,  when  the  tears  of  that  poor 
little  lame  creature  made  you  such  a  hero. 
You  are  a  great  deal  better  and  tenderer  than 
you  know,  my  dear." 

The  rest  of  the  week  was  given  to  Phil, 
and  wherever  he  went  he  was  an  object  of 
admiration,  and  some  way,  it  even  got  into  the 
papers. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

COFFEE    AND    CURRY. 

A  tiny  lady,  yet  so  old, 

She  talked  of  diamond?  and  gold, 

Of  fashions  new  and  follies  old." 

T  was  still  holiday  and  high  carnival 
at  the  Winfield  mansion.  Kate  and 
Fanny  had  been  busy  ornamenting 
the  nursery.  Pine-boughs  and  ever- 
greens smiled  out  sunnily  from  every  nook 
and  corner.  Baskets,  vases,  tables  and  mantels 
were  full  of  verdure.  These,  with  flowers  from 
the  small,  well  kept  conservatory,  made  the 
room  alive  with  blooms. 

On  the  day  with  which  our  chapter  opens, 

Fanny  had  taken  great  pains  with  her  toilet, 

as  the  fluttering  ribbons  from  neck,  head  and 

arms   proclaimed.     Cad  had   bestowed  hours 

6  81 


82        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

of  patient  labor  upon  her  household  treasures. 
Her  dolls  had  been  newly  dressed ;  her  little 
house  of  four  rooms,  swept  and  garnished ; 
the  kitchen  shone,  and  nurse  declared,  admir- 
ingly, that  "a  more  perfect  little  born  'ousewife 
she  had  never  seen." 

Fanny  had  been  somewhat  remiss  in  her 
devoirs  to  Prince  Charlie,  his  dimpled  fingers 
and  her  ribbons  were  better  apart. 

Kate  sat  in  the  study,  reading  a  letter  from 
her  brother  Ross,  part  of  which  ran  as  follows: 

"I  wish  my  father  had  not  set  his  heart  on 
making  me  a  lawyer.  I  have  no  liking  what- 
ever for  the  profession.  I  hate  the  city  and 
I  dislike  the  law.  Still,  I  will  endeavor  not 
to  disappoint  him.  If  he  should  ask  me  point 
blank  what  I  think  of  the  profession,  my 
answer  would  be  in  accordance  with  my  preju- 
dices. How  goes  shop  now-a-days?  We  used 
to  have  such  jolly  times!  I  think  I  was  as 
much  of  a  girl  as  any  of  you.  Frankly,  I  had 
rather  be  among  girls  any  day,  than  these 
•  rude  fellows. 


Coffee  and  Curry.  83 

"By  the  by,  Phil  is  a  success,  isn't  he? 
That  little  newspaper  article  about  him  pleased 
the  boys  vastly.  'What!'  they  asked,  'was  it 
your  brother?'  That  boy  will  be  an  honor  to 
the  family;  he  will  be  the  lawyer,  while  I  shall 
keep  a  grocery,  or  run  a  farm.  How  is  practi- 
cal little  Cad  ?  One  of  my  chums  told  me  a 
little  story  concerning  her.  It  was  Bill  Rau- 
leigh;  good  fellow!  you'd  like  him.  It  seems 
old  Mr.  Rauleigh,  Bill's  father,  was  very 
eccentric,  and  for  years  imagined  that  he  had 
given  up  all  belief  in  immortality.  So  once 
upon  a  time  he  planted  a  small  lettuce-bed, 
and  as  the  young  plants  peeped  above  ground 
they  read  as  follows: 

"'GOD    IS   NOWHERE.' 

"It  appears  that  father  and  he  often  held 
debates  upon  the  matter.  Cad  was  a  little 
thing  then,  some  six  years  old,  reading  in 
short  syllables,  and  quite  proud  of  the  pro- 
gress she  made. 

"So    one   day   papa   carried   her   into   his 
neighbor's  garden — it  was  when  papa  was  in 


84        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  country — and  presently  they  heard  the 
child  clapping  her  hands  in  great  glee. 

'"I  can  read  it  all,  papa,"  cried  Cad;  'look, 
O!  how  pretty!  It  says, 

" '  God  is  now  here.' 

" '  No,  no/  said  the  old  man ;  '  look  again, 
child.  It  reads, 

" '  God  is  nowhere.' 

'"But  hear  me  spell  it,'  quoth  confident 
Cad: 

'"  G-o-d  God,  i-s  is,  n-o-w  now,  h-e-r-e  here' 

"Poor  old  man!  Cad's  logic  quite  overcame 
him.  And  it  had  such  an  effect  upon  him 
that  he  carefully  pointed  it  just  as  the  child 
had  read  it,  and  gave  up  his  infidel  notions 
ever  after." 

Kate  remembered  the  story;  she  had  once 
heard  her  father  tell  it.  "Good  little  Cad," 
she  murmured. 

Kate  was  very  fond  and  proud  of  Ross.  He 
had  always  been  her  hero.  It  hurt  her  a  little 
to  feel  that  he  was  so  unambitious,  and  she 
sometimes  scolded  him  for  his  prosaic  notions. 


Coffee  and  Curry.  85 

Her  mother  came  in. 

"What  time  will  they  be  here,  do  you 
think  ?"  asked  Kate. 

"  They,"  meant  her  father  and  little  Rosa- 
lind, the  Indian  cousin. 

"  He  said  five-twenty.  I  have  just  sent  the 
carriage  for  them." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  nursery  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear ;  it  is  as  bright  as  a  garden  in 
June.  When  the  gas  is  on,  it  will  be  a  bower 
fit  for  the  fairies." 

"  But  don't  you  dread  her  coming,  just  a 
little?" 

"  No,  dear,  not  with  you  for  an  aid-de-camp, 
I  hope  we  shall  make  a  happy  home  for  the 
motherless  child."  Kate's  cheek  flushed,  she 
was  proud  to  be  of  service  to  her  mother. 

The  girls  had  gathered  together  in  the  sit- 
ting-room and  were  listening  intently  for  car- 
riage wheels.  Dinner  had  been  delayed,  but 
now  the  servants  were  busy  in  the  dining- 
room  beyond,  and  the  clock  pointed  to  a  half 
hour  after  six. 


86        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Phil  was  but  mortal,  and  sometimes  pre- 
sumed upon  his  sudden  popularity.  He  came 
into  the  room  and  proceeded  in  his  usual 
fashion  to  jar  upon  the  harmony  of  the  little 
group  so  expectantly  waiting.  First  he  turned 
a  chair  upon  Fanny's  toes  and  then  tweaked 
her  ribbons.  Fanny  in  her  anger  chased  him, 
in  order  to  inflict  chastisement  upon  his  ears. 
In  the  race  he  pulled  a  chair  from  Cad,  and 
threw  down  Kate's  music  stand. 

"  If  there's  any  thing  more  horrid  than  a 
boy!"  cried  Fanny,  as  he  sheltered  himself 
behind  the  furniture. 

"  It's  a  girl,"  finished  Phil,  beginning  a 
clog-dance,  in  imitation  of  the  street  Arabs. 

"  Phil,  you  know  this  is  no  place  to  dance 
in ;  can't  you  be  decent  ?"  queried  Kate,  after 
restoring  her  music  stand  to  its  upright  posi- 
tion. "  It  seems  as  if  you  try  to  make  your- 
self the  pest  of  the  house,  sometimes." 

"Hollo!  St.  Catharine!"  shouted  Phil,  never 
more  delighted  than  when  he  drew  sparks 
from  her;  "here's  the  angel  of  the  household 


Coffee  and  Curry.  87 

down  on  me.  Don't  get  mad,  Kate,  you 
know  I'm  a 'wholesome  discipline.'" 

Kate's  resolution  gave  way  at  this,  and  the 
old  spirit  asserted  itself.  Irritated  by  Phil, 
who  continued  his  uncouth  dance  and  snapped 
his  fingers  at  her  derisively,  she  caught  him 
by  the  arm  and  shook  him  with  all  her 
strength.  The  boy  flung  her  off,  with  a  word 
such  as  none  of  that  little  group  had  ever 
heard  from  household  lips,  and  then  ran, 
flushed  and  frightened,  out  of  the  room. 

The  girls  looked  at  each  other  with  blanched 
faces.  Kate's  was  whitest  of  them  all.  She 
had  been  the  cause  of  that  dreadful  sin ;  her 
loss  of  temper  had  provoked  him  to  an  open 
defiance  of  God's  law. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  utter  silence. 

"  O  dear,  dear,"  said  Cad,  at  last,  with  quiv- 
ering lips,  "what  shall  we  do?" 

"  HE  heard  it,"  responded  Fanny  in  an 
awe-struck  tone,  involuntarily  glancing  up- 
wards. 

"  I  seem  to  hear  it  all  over  the  room,"  said 


88        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Cad,  tearfully.  "  I  guess  it  poisoned  the  very 
air." 

"  He  never  meant  to  do  it ;  it  must  have 
come  before  he  thought,"  murmured  Fanny. 
"What  would  papa  do  to  him?" 

"  Papa  ought  to  know  it,"  said  Kate  shrink- 
ingly;  "and  I  was  some  to  blame,  though  he 
did  try  me  terribly;"  she  added,  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

"Shall  you  tell  father?"  asked  Fanny. 

"I  don't  believe  Phil  belongs  to  us,"  said 
Cad,  with  quivering  lips. 

"You  didn't  say  that  when  he  did  such  a 
noble  action,"  Kate  responded,  the  shadows 
falling  more  thickly  upon  her.  She  acknow- 
ledged to  herself  that  she  had  been  very 
angry  when  she  shook  him;  that  she  was 
eager  to  hurt  him  in  some  way,  and  the  boy's 
retort  was  only  the  result  of  the  old  law — like 
creating  like.  He  had  seen  the  hate  in  her 
eyes,  and  up  leaped  the  bad  word  to  his  lips. 

Mrs.  Winfield  came  smilingly  in  and  turned 
on  the  gas. 


Coffee  and  Curry.  89 

"The  carriage  is  coming,"  she  said,  and 
away  they  all  rushed  to  the  windows,  Kate 
giving  them  a  sign,  somehow,  that  Phil's 
mishap  was  not  to  be  mentioned  just  now. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  sound  of  wheels. 
The  carriage  stopped,  eager  eyes  looked  out 
on  the  street,  and  then  there  was  the  pause 
of  expectation. 

Presently  Mr.  Winfield  led  in  a  little  girl. 
She  looked  about  her  with  great,  frightened 
eyes.  What  an  atom  she  was,  and  so  oddly 
dressed,  all  in  black. 

"  Children,  welcome  your  little  cousin,"  said 
Mr.  Winfield  cheerily.  "  She  is  tired  and 
lonesome,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  a  little 
hungry." 

To  Kate  had  been  assigned  the  duty  of 
caring  for  the  stranger's  immediate  wants. 
She  led  the  passive  child  up  stairs  to  the 
nursery,  where  the  dinner  was  to  be  sent  for 
that  day. 

Kate,  as  she  led  her  into  the  beautiful  room, 
smiled  at  sight  of  the  decorations  in  honor  of 


9O        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

such  an  atom.  She  helped  her  off  with  her 
hat  and  cloak  and  furs. 

"  I  am  going  to  stay  with  you  here,  and  we 
shall  take  dinner  alone,  as  you  are  so  tired." 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  not  in  the  least  tired," 
said  the  child,  and  in  such  a  grand  little 
womanish  way,  that  Kate  was  taken  quite 
aback,  and  stood  staring  at  her.  "  Queen  of 
the  Lilliputs,"  she  thought,  as  little  miss 
Linda  seated  herself  with  the  greatest  com- 
placency, and  the  trouble  and  wonder  seemed 
to  fade  out  of  her  eyes. 

"  Why  didn't  the  other  children  come  up  ?" 
she  asked  in  the  same  level  tone. 

"The  other  children!"  Kate  felt  her  dignity 
oozing  out  at  her  finger  ends.  Did  the  mite 
take  her  for  a  child  ? 

"  Mamma  thought  you  needed  rest,"  she 
answered,  quite  subdued  in  voice  and  manner. 

"What  curious  windows!"  continued  miss 
Linda,  looking  round  the  room;  "what  a  very 
queer  place  altogether!  I  think  papa's  bun- 
galow was  a  good  deal  nicer." 


Coffee  and  Curry.  91 

"Weren't  you  very  sorry  to  leave  your 
papa?"  queried  Kate. 

"Rather — it  made  me  cry  a  little,"  was 
the  reluctant  confession.  "If  I  could  have 
brought  Murdg  with  me — he  was  so  clever! 
but  he  was  papa's  interpreter  of  Hindostanee. 
He  couldn't  spare  him.  This  is  a  very  cold 
country;"  and  she  shivered  a  little. 

"I  am  sorry  you  are  cold." 

"O,  I'm  not  cold  here,  thanks." 

"We  shall  all  try  to  make  you  feel  at 
home,"  ventured  Kate,  quite  astounded  at  the 
child's  self-possession. 

"I  liked  the  captain  and  the  ship.  I  didn't 
want  to  come  here,"  said  Linda.  "I  don't 
know  any  one — I  didn't  want  to  come;  but 
papa  would — would — "  She  stopped;  some 
passionate  feeling  seemed  to  choke  her,  and 
dropping  her  face  in  her  tiny  hands,  she 
began  to  cry  and  sob. 

Kate  was  conquered  at  once.  Her  whole 
heart  went  out  in  pity.  She  was  on  her  knees 
in  a  moment. 


92        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"My  poor  little  cousin!" 

Something  in  her  sweet,  sympathetic  voice, 
touched  the  child.  She  stopped  her  sobs  for 
a  moment,  and  took  one  long,  breathless  look 
at  Kate's  face.  Then  Kate  opened  her  arms, 
and  the  sad  little  waif  crept  into  them  and 
cried  more  quietly  upon  her  shoulder. 

Presently  the  dinner  was  brought  up,  and 
daintily  arranged  on  a  little  round  table.  Kate 
coaxed  the  child  towards  it. 

"  You  must  eat  some  chicken,"  she  said, 
"and  a  bit  of  salad.  You  don't  know  how 
good  mamma's  salads  are." 

"I  should  prefer  curry,  chicken  and  iced 
sherry;"  responded  Linda,  with  a  return  to 
her  old  stateliness.  "  The  captain  always  had 
curry  for  me." 

"May  be  we  will  have  curry  to-morrow," 
said  Kate,  half  laughing;  "to-night  we  will 
make  chicken  do  without.  As  for  wine,  papa 
never  allows  us  to  taste  of  that.  Would  a 
little  nice  tea  do,  instead?"  Kate  was  quite 
startled  at  the  mite's  demand  for  iced  sherry. 


Coffee  and  Curry.  93 

"I  don't  wish  any  tea,"  said  Linda;  "papa 
always  let  me  drink  coffee." 

"  Coffee  and  curry,  and  iced  sherry,"  thought 
Kate;  "  no  wonder  the  child  is  such  a  mite." 

"We  never  have  coffee,"  said  Kate,  de- 
murely. 

"I  don't  care  for  any  dinner,  then,"  said 
Linda;  but  Kate  coaxed  her  a  little,  and  she 
ate  a  small  portion  of  the  chicken. 

Meantime  Fanny  and  Cad  were  longing  to 
get  to  the  nursery.  Mrs.  Winfield  thought  it 
best  for  their  cousin  to  come  down  stairs. 
Instead  of  that,  Kate  surprised  them  with  the 
information  that  Miss  Linda  had  asked  to  be 
taken  directly  to  bed,  and  was  then  asleep. 

"In  my  bed!"  said  Cad,  exultingly;  "then 
I  shall  see  her  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
before  any  of  you.  I'm  going  to  give  her 
Felice." 

The  generous  little  girl  had  fought  a  hard 
battle  with  herself  before  consent  had  been 
obtained  to  this  act  of  self-denial.  Felice  was 
the  very  choicest  of  all  her  possessions,  but 


94        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the   sacrifice    was   made,  and   she   was   quite 
happy  over  it. 

Phil  sat  crouching  behind  the  globes. 
Kate's  face  burned  as  she  met  his  eye.  He 
was  very  humble  now.  In  the  solitude  of 
his  own  room  he  had  been  playing  mumble- 
peg,  but  the  charms  of  his  favorite  pleasure 
had  yielded  to  remorse.  His  solid,  ebony- 
handled  knife  seemed  to  regard  him  with  a 
grim  sarcasm,  as  it  laid  open  blade  upon  its 
back."  The  paper  on  the  wall  resolved  itself 
into  a  legion  of  accusing  faces.  Conscience 
tortured  him,  and  a  series  of  desperate  somer- 
saults did  not  mend  the  matter.  Over  and 
over  again  a  still  small  voice  kept  repeating, 
"Swear  not  at  all." 

"I  didn't  mean  to,"  he  muttered;  "it  just 
popped  out  itself — and — pshaw!  who  cares? 
Kate  '11  tell  papa,  I  'spose,  and  I  shall  get  soli- 
tary confinement  number  two.  Ugh!  girls!" 
and  the  spite  and  the  twist  in  his  face  would 
have  done  no  dishonor  to  a  Comanche  chief, 
ready  for  the  war-path. 


Coffee  and  Curry.  95 

Poor  Phil  proved  his  descent  from  Adam, 
who  said,  "The  woman  tempted  me."  Well 
for  him  that  he  came  to  the  conclusion  at 
last,  that  he  had  done  a  mean,  contemptible 
thing. 

Kate's  loving  heart  went  out  to  the  boy, 
and  she  wanted  to  give  him  some  word  of 
condolence. 

"I  say,"  he  muttered,  as  she  managed  to 
place  herself  in  proximity  to  him,  "are  you 
going  to  tell  on  me?" 

"  Not  unless  you  say  I  may;  but  papa 
ought  to  know,"  said  Kate,  gently.  "I  don't 
believe  you  will  feel  quite  right  till  you  tell 
him.  Just  tell  him  the  whole,  if  you  say  any 
thing;  don't  spare  me." 

Phil  twirled  the  globes,  a  bright  red  spot  in 
either  cheek.  He  knew  his  father  would  be 
just,  perhaps  generous.  Kate  was  not  sur- 
prised to  be  telgraphed  to,  later  in  the  even- 
ing, by  master  Phil. 

"I'm  going  to  do  it,"  he  whispered. 

"Tell  father!" 


96        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Yes;  if  I  don't,  I  shall  run  away." 

"O,  Phil!"  cried  Kate,  shrinkingly. 

"Yes,"  said  Phil,  soberly.  "I've  got  a  hun- 
dred dollars.  Wouldn't  there  be  jolly  times, 
though?  I  think  I  should  make  for  India." 

"  Phil,  I  won't  hear  you  talk  so ;  what  can 
you  mean?" 

"And  by  and  by  I'd  be  sending  you  pre- 
sents ;  India  shawls,  and  camels  and  elephants, 
you  know;  and  I'd  be  a  roojah,  or  whatever 
they"  call  'em,  and  wear  palanquins  and  nan- 
keens, and  a  hat  with  a  feather  in  it,  and  own 
a  thousand  slaves" — he  paused  suddenly,  and 
broke  into  a  laugh  at  Kate's  anxious  face. 

"A  fellow  can  make  girls  believe  any- 
thing," he  said.  "I  say,  I'm  coming  down 
on  you,  though." 

"You  may  say  just  what  you  please  about 
me,"  Kate  responded. 

"And  that's  nothing." 


CHAPTER  IX. 


CAD     ANTICIPATES. 

"And  childish  indignation 
Proves  many  a  throbbing  smart." 

S  for  Cad,  she  could  not  go  to  sleep 
for  thinking  of  the  little  stranger  at 
her  side. 

"She's  small,  and  not  a  bit  pretty. 
I  wonder  what  her  eyes  are  like!  but  her 
hair  is  beautiful,"  soliloquized  motherly  Cad. 
"  There's  a  moon,  and  it's  as  bright  as  morn- 
ing;" so  Cad  jumped  out  of  bed  to  take  a 
look  at  the  little  shapeless  things  hanging 
over  the  chair. 

On  the  bureau  she  found  a  plain  black  vel- 
vet ribbon,  in   the  midst  of  which  shone   a 
small  white  stone  of  exceeding  brilliancy. 
"I  wonder  if  she  wears  that  bit  of  glass?" 
7  ^  97 


98        The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

queried  Cad,  contemptuously,  as  she  jumped 
into  bed  again.  "Poor  thing,  I  know  mamma 
wont  want  her  to  wear  that  hideous  black. 
If  she  hasn't  got  any  clothes  made,  I'll  let 
her  have  some  of  mine;  my  crimson  alpacca, 
it's  too  small  for  me." 

The  little  girl  looked  upon  her  cousin  in 
much  the  same  light  that  she  did  upon  her 
big  dolls,  and  fairly  revelled  in  the  anticipated 
delight  of  dressing  and  undressing  her,  and 
trying  the  effects  of  various  colors  upon  her. 
At  last  she  fell  asleep,  and  on  waking  in  the 
morning  was  surprised  and  a  little  annoyed 
to  find  her  room-mate  sitting  up  in  bed,  evi- 
dently taking  an  inventory  of  her  new  com- 
panion ;  a  curious,  intense  expression,  dark- 
ening her  sallow,  tiny  face. 

Cad  smiled  a  good  morning. 

"Did  you  sleep  well?"  she  asked,  some- 
what daunted  at  her  cousin's  continued  stare. 

"  No — I  didn't  sleep  at  all.  The  bed  rocks 
up  and  down,  like  the  ship;  don't  you  feel 
it?  Are  you  one  of  the  children?" 


Cad  Anticipates.  99 

"  Yes,  I'm  Cad,"  was  the  response.  "My 
bed's  the  biggest,  so  they  let  you  sleep  with 
me.  What  makes  you  think  it  rocks?" 

"  It's  the  ship,  I  fancy.  Did  you  ever  go 
to  sea?  It's  splendid!  They  tied  me  to  the 
mast  once,  because  it  stormed  and  I  wouldn't 
go  below.  We  had  plenty  of  fun;  once  they 
tossed  me  in  a  blanket — just  a  little,  you 
know;  and  once  they  sold  me.  The  captain 
bought  me  for  lots  of  rupees,  and  then  he 
gave  me  all  the  money.  I've  a  box  of  bon 
bons  in  my  trunk,  they're  delicious.  I'd  rather 
be  at  sea  than  here — O,  a  great  deal !" 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  help  you  dress  ?" 
asked  Cad. 

"  I  dress  myself,  thanks,"  said  Linda,  with 
a  great  assumption  of  womanliness.  "  I  had 
an  English  mamma,  and  she  taught  me  to 
take  care  of  myself  when  I  was  five  years 
old,  though  I  had  an  Ayah  of  my  own.  She 
said  people  were  lazy  who  let  themselves  be 
dressed.  And  after  mamma  died,  I  always 
sat  at  table  when  papa  had  the  officers  to 


ioo      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

dinner,  and  behaved  like  a  perfect  lady,"  she 
added  with  self-complacency. 

Cad's  face  was  hid  in  the  pillow.  This  odd 
young  person  made  her  laugh. 

"  I  can't  get  used  to  this  place,"  continued 
Linda.  "  I  almost  wish  papa  had  let  me  stay 
in  India.  There  were  lots  of  mamma's  rela- 
tions wanted  me  in  England.  I — I'm  home- 
sick," and  she  began  to  whimper  a  little. 

"  Wait  'till  you  see  our  playthings  and  my 
kitchen-stove,"  said  Cad,  "  and  drive  out  with 
us,  and  go  to  the  exhibitions  and  concerts. 
Papa  always  takes  us  somewhere  once  a  week. 
I'm  sure  you'll  be  very  happy  with  us,  and — 
come  a  little  closer,  I  always  want  to  whisper 
it — you'll  find  our  mamma  just  an.  angel ! 
She'll  love  you  just  as  she  loves  us,  and 
you'll  love  her,  because  you  can't  help  it. 
We'll  keep  house  together,  splendid !  I  can 
do  every  thing ;  bake,  wash,  iron  and  clean 
up.  There !  that's  the  bell,  and  we  must  get 
up,  to  be  in  time  for  prayers.  Do  you  wear 
that  bit  of  velvet  round  your  neck  ?" 


Cad  Anticipates.  101 

"  O,  that  is  my  diamond !"  exclaimed  Linda. 
"  Mamma  had  it  fixed  so  as  to  fasten  or^ 
velvet.  I  only  wear  it  when  I  am  dressed 
grandly.  My  clothes  haven't  come — there's 
three  great  boxes — and  I  haven't  a  single 
morning-apron — what  shall  I  wear?" 

"  Won't  one  of  mine  do  ?"  and  Cad  eagerly 
drew  out  half  a  dozen  from  their  nest. 

"  Dear  me — those  thick, .  coarse  things  !" 
exclaimed  the  child  with  a  wry  face.  "  They 
feel  almost  like  pongee,  such  as  the  servants 
wear." 

Cad  flushed. 

"We  call  it  nice  enough  for  us,"  she  res- 
ponded in  her  spirited  little  voice. 

"Then  they  don't  make  such  fine  stuff  as 
they  do  in  India.  Please  put  my  diamond 
away,  I  only  wear  it  in  full  dress." 

"Full  dress,"  thought  Cad;  "she's  a  cut 
down  woman." 

"  Is  it  a  real  diamond  ?"  she  asked,  as  she 
stowed  it  in  one  of  her  boxes.  "  Perhaps 
mamma  had  better  take  care  of  it,  if  it  is; 


IO2      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

diamonds  are  worth  a  great  deal  of  money. 
I  heard  papa  say  he  gave  two  hundred  dollars 
for  just  a  little  one." 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  cost,"  said  Linda, 
with  supreme  disdain;  "papa  never  cared 
what  things  cost." 

"Do  you  like  babies?"  asked  Cad. 

"No;  I  hate  'em." 

Cad  was  horrified.  Her  cheeks  reddened 
scarlet,  and  what  Kate  called  the  "Winfield 
temper"  blazed  for  a  moment  in  her  soft 
eyes. 

"Then  you  ought  not  to  see  our  Prince 
Charlie,  for  he  is  a  baby.  You  won't  want 
to  play  with  dolls,  and  I've  got  oceans — from 
England,  Paris,  and  all  over  the  world.  Don't 

like   babies!"    and  little  Cad   felt  her  throat 

« 

swell  as  with  a  sense  of  being  unjustly  treated 
by  one  whom  she  wished  to  befriend. 

Linda  was  not  so  much  to  be  blamed. 
She  had  seen  only  the  little  naked  barba- 
rians, loud-voiced  and  swart,  who  cried  round 
the  Asiatic  servants  at  home.  She  had  never 


Cad  Anticipates.  103 

touched  the  fair,  peachy  cheeks,  or  felt  the 
pressure  of  sweet  velvet  lips  of  her  own  kin. 
Indeed  she  had  known  but  few  of  the  gentler 
influences  of  home,  even  during  her  mother's 
life,  for  fashionable  society  claimed  all  her 
mother's  time. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LINDA'S      OPINIONS. 

"  I  do  not  like  you,  Doctor  Fell, 
The  reason  why,  I  cannot  tell." 

OR  the  first  day,  Linda  was  left  very 
much  alone,  but  she  chose  to  remain 
with  the  girls,  and  her  great  eyes 
allowed  nothing  to  escape  her.  She 
noted,  child  as  she  was,  the  nicety  and  beauty 
of  the  household.  The  white  crystals  of  the 
hardened  snow  were  objects  of  constant  delight. 
The  great  trees  in  front  of  the  dwelling,  drip- 
ping with  frozen  pendants ;  the  many-colored 
sleighs  and  the  merry  music  of  the  bells  about 
the  necks  of  the  horses ;  the  brown  spires  of 
St.  Mary's  and  its  silver-toned  chimes;  the 
"white  rose-leaves"  falling  over  the  world  as 
the  slow  flakes  came  sailing  down,  some- 
104 


Linda's   Opinions.  105 

times,  for  the  day  was  cloudy ;  above  all,  the 
sweet,  reposeful,  love-shadowed  face  of  Cad's 
"angel," — all  these  opened  a  new  world  to  her, 
a  world  of  action  as  well  as  sentiment,  a  world 
that  was  to  rouse  and  stimulate  her  deadened 
energies. 

After  breakfast  a  formal  announcement  was 
made  that  there  would  be  no  lessons  for  the 
rest  of  the  week.  Books  and  slates  were 
locked  up  with  great  glee.  Cad  called  Linda 
to  see  her  extinguish  earth,  sky  and  ocean, 
as  she  drew  the  linen  covers  over  the  globes, 
and  then  a  dance  without  music  was  impro- 
vised for  the  occasion.  Linda  had  chained 
Cad  to  her  with  rivets  of  steel,  by  declaring 
that  had  she  known  babies  could  be  as  beau- 
tiful as  Prince  Charlie,  she  should  have  loved 
them  with  all  her  heart. 

Even  Phil  seemed  to  be  on  his  best  beha- 
vior. He  had  confessed  his  error,  and  been 
heartily  forgiven,  henceforth  mumblepeg  was 
divested  of  its  satire,  and  the  wall-paper 
regarded  him  benignantly. 


io6      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Phil  declared  himself  at  first  quite  disgusted 
with  his  little  cousin,  and  gave  it  as  his  delib- 
erate opinion,  cautiously  expressed,  however, 
that  she  looked  like  a  shark.  She,  on  her 
part,  avoided  him,  much  as  a  kitten  avoids 
a  rough  dog ;  it  was  not  in  Phil's  nature  to 
be  gentle. 

"  I  like  your  sisters,"  she  said  confidentially 
to  Cad,  "  and  your  mother  is  a  lady — but  that 
boy  is  very  rude  and  teasing." 

"  O  well,  you  know  boys  always  are — that 
is,  boys  like  our  Phil.  You  see  he  hasn't 
been  with  us  a  great  while,  and  I  suspect  he 
got  his  bad  manners  at  school.  But  didn't 
you  admire  papa?  is  uncle  Harry  like  him?" 

"Handsomer!"  said  Linda,  promptly. 

"O  no,  that's  impossible,"  returned  Cad, 
after  a  pause  of  astonishment.  "  I  do  not 
believe  there's  a  handsomer  man  in  all  the 
world  than  our  papa." 

"  Except  mine,"  said  Linda,  sturdily,  "  be- 
cause his  hair  curls  and  his  whiskers  are 
long." 


Linda 's  Opinions.  107 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  whiskers,"  defiant 
Cad  responded;  "whiskers  don't  make  men 
handsome — cats  have  whiskers." 

There  was  no  response  to  this  somewhat 
ungenerous  speech. 

That  was  a  day  however  to  be  long  remem- 
bered. Cad's  kitchen  was  in  full  operation, 
and  every  one  of  her  twenty  odd  dolls  came 
out  of  their  nooks  and  drawers,  and  shelves 
and  corners.  They  were  all  placed  in  a  row 
on  one  of  the  lounges,  and  Linda's  great  eyes 
shone  with  delight. 

"  Now,"  said  Cad,  a  little  self-reproachful 
on  account  of  the  whiskers,  "you  may  have 
any  doll  you  want ;  one,  you  know,  only  one, 
because  I  gave  you  Felice." 

Linda  walked  silently  back  and  forth.  She 
was  a  long  time  making  up  her  mind.  One 
young  lady  in  Turkish  costume  pleased  her 
color-loving  eye;  she  hesitated  before  a  Greek, 
dressed  in  lovely  robes  of  oriental  finish,  with 
a  satin  turban  lightly  resting  on  black,  flow- 
ing tresses.  There  was  Maude,  dressed  in 


io8      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

sober  silk,  and  Nanny  in  a  morning-wrapper 
of  the  latest  fashion.  Petkin  was  still  asleep 
in  the  four-poster;  Cad  would  have  lost  a 
finger  sooner  than  her  precious  Petkin,  the 
eldest  and  the  dearest. 

It  was  a  great  relief  when  Linda  made 
her  choice  at  last,  and  selected  the  Turkish 
beauty. 

There  were  Marys,  and  Sallys,  and  Pollys, 
quite  beneath  miss  Linda's  notice,  but  very 
dear  to  the  heart  of  this  little  ruler  of  dolls. 
Some  were  dreadfully  maimed  and  disfig- 
ured; perpetual  eruptions,  broken  limbs  and 
equivocal  eyes — were  handy  in  the  sickly 
season.  In  cases  of  measles  and  chicken-pox, 
the  scarred  faces  came  out  in  full  force.  Cad 
in  her  unwearied  and  beautiful  motherhood 
treated  them  with  special  tenderness.  This 
one  she  had  entrusted  to  a  careless  nurse,  and 
another  had  her  poor  nose  broken  in  a  fall 
from  the  perambulator.  Another,  Cad  gravely 
asserted,  lost  her  eyes  by  an  attack  of  inflam- 
mable rheumatism,  and  the  eyeless  doll  was 


Linda's  Opinions.  109 

recompensed  for  her  blindness  by  a  series  of 
ardent  hugs. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  like  them,  when 
they're  so  ugly,"  said  Linda,  making  wry 
faces. 

"But  that's  not  their  fault,  poor  dears," 
replied  sympathetic  Cad.  "What  would  we 
do  if  our  mammas  didn't  like  us,  if  our  noses 
were  broken  ?" 

The  argument  was  irrestible. 

"This  one,"  pointing  to  an  armless  body, 
whose  head  always  reclined  on  one  shoulder 
or  the  other  through  inability  of  backbone, 
"I  had  when  I  was  a  bit  of  a  baby.  My  own 
mamma  made  it  for  me,  and  I  suppose  it 
was  very  beautiful  once,  but  I  cherish  it,  you 
see,  although  it  has  got  consumption  so  ter- 
ribly that  I  may  be  called  to  part  with  it  any 
moment.  This  frock  was  mine,  and  I  wore  it 
when  I  was  six  weeks  old;  I  keep  a  shawl 
wrapped  round  it,  to  hide  its  poor  arms." 

"But  it  hasn't  any  arms,"  said  Linda. 

Cad  gave  a  wistful  look. 


1 1  o      T/ie  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"We'll  make-believe  we  don't  notice  that," 
she  said  softly,  and  her  face  lighted  up  with 
a  smile  that  seemed  to  come  from  heaven. 

On  the  whole,  that  was  a  delightful  day. 
Fanny  was  very  gracious  to  the  little  stranger, 
and  Barton  won  her  heart  by  telling  her 
stories  of  London,  the  city  where  her  mother 
was  born. 

Cad  cooked  a  small  dinner  in  her  famous 
stove,  and  had  her  best  tea-set  out.  Even 
Phil  forgot  to  be  ungracious,  and  only  said 
he  hated  girls  once  during  the  day,  and  that 
was  occasioned  by  his  breaking  Cad's  milk 
pitcher,  over  the  fragments  of  which  a  few 
natural  tears  were  shed. 

They  were  engaged  in  merry  games  after 
dinner,  when  suddenly  Cad  gave  a  great  cry 
of  delight. 


CHAPTER  XL 


WHAT     ROSS    WANTED. 

"  The  cold,  heartless  city,  with  its  forms 
And  dull  routine  ;  its  artificial  manners, 
And  arbitrary  rules." 

HE  door-bell  sounded  simultaneous 
with  her  cry,  and  Cad  had  flown  out 
into  the  hall. 

"I  knew  it  was  him!"  she  exult- 
ingly  exclaimed,  as  she  came  in  with  her 
brother  Ross,  who  carried  a  bouquet  of  hot- 
house flowers  in  one  hand  and  a  travelling 
bag  in  the  other.  "And  only  think,  he's  come 
to  our  vacation !" 

"Well,  puss,  wait  till  I  get  my  traps  down;" 
said  Ross,  giving  his  bag  to  the  grinning  ser- 
vant. "  There !  now  I'm  ready  to  be  made 
a  spectacle  o£" 

in 


112      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

He  certainly  did  make  a  very  pleasant  spec- 
tacle, as  he  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the 
brilliantly  lighted  room ;  tall,  dark-eyed,  and 
smiling,  the  very  picture  of  stalwart  young 
America  preparing  for  its  sterner  march  into 
the  realms  of  manhood.  Then  came  kisses 
and  exclamations  of  endearment. 

Ross  marched  up  to  Cad's  "angel." 

"  I  brought  this  all  the  way  from  the  Pro- 
fessor's conservatory,"  he  said,  giving  her 
the  flowers,  pleased  at  her  pride  of  him  and 
evident  delight  at  his  thoughtfulness. 

"That's  our  biggest  brother,"  whispered 
'  Cad  to  wondering  Linda. 

"  How  many  are  there  of  you !"  said  the 
child,  whose  interest  was  beginning  to  twine 
about  something  beside  herself. 

"O,  a  great  many,  and  we  are  all  together 
now." 

Mr.  Winfield  had  risen  from  the  sofa.  Ross 
was  standing  beside  him  telling  the  news. 
The  college-buildings  were  under  repair,  so 
there  was  a  vacation  of  several  weeks.  Mr. 


What  Ross   Wanted.  113 

Winfield  put  his  arm  over  the  young  fellow's 
shoulder,  Ross's  hand  slid  round  his  father's 
waist.  This  little  act,  trifling  as  it  was, 
revealed  to  the  observer  that  complete  confi- 
dence between  father  and  son  which  does  not 
always  exist  in  such  relationship. 

After  this,  Ross  was  claimed  successively  by 
the  sisters,  and  such  merry  by-plays  as  there 
were,  such  secrets  told,  such  confidences  in- 
voked !  Linda  gladened  Cad's  heart,  so  that 
it  broke  out  into  kisses  and  a  hug,  by  a 
declaration  that  Ross  was  the  handsomest 
boy  she  had  ever  seen;  and  Ross  took  very 
kindly  to  his  sly  little  cousin.  She  hung 
on  his  words  and  treasured  his  smiles. 

"Won't  we  have  grand  times,  now?"  mur- 
mured Fanny,  wondering  secretly  if  her  rib- 
bons were  equal  to  the  occasion. 

After  a  while  Kate  and  Ross  sat  down  in 
a  corner,  to  have  an  old-fashioned  chat.  Then 
Kate  must  sing  one  of  the  dear  old  songs, 
and  it  really  seemed  as  if  the  very  atmosphere 
grew  rose-colored,  and  shining  wings  flitting 


U4      Tfo  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

past,  left  their  radiance  upon  every  gentle 
face. 

Cad  undertook  to  teach  Linda  a  new  tidy- 
stitch,  the  bright  gayly  colored  wools  running 
over  bands  and  dresses.  Fanny  and  Phil 
played  battledore,  and  Prince  Charlie  crowed 
in  Hebrew  or  Chaldaic,  I  am  not  certain 
which. 

"I  tell  you  what,  it  refreshes  a  fellow  to 
get  home  once  in  a  while,"  said  Ross,  march- 
ing back  and  forth  with  his  mannish  step. 
"  I  don't  believe  any  of  our  boys  have  such 
a  royal  place  as  this  to  go  to.  Crow  away 
little  prince,  I  don't  wonder;"  and  baby  in 
another  moment  was  perched  upon  his  shoul- 
der and  danced  to  its  heart's  content. 

A  week  of  unalloyed  happiness  followed. 
Flowers  strewed  the  path  of  these  youthful, 
untried  hearts. 

Ross  carried  the  house  by  storm.  It  was 
he  who  planned  amusements,  fetes,  surprises. 
The  carriage  was  at  his  command.  "  It  never 
could  be  put  to  a  better  use,"  said  Mr.  Win- 


What  Ross   Wanted.  115 

field,  as  the  happy  faces  passed  him — and  he 
sighed  again ;  was  it  from  very  fulness  of 
content,  or  was  there  in  his  heart  an  unde- 
fined sadness,  a  fear  that  this  almost  perfect 
happiness  was  soon  to  be  rudely  broken  in 
upon  ?  Whatever  the  reason,  it  was  certain 
that  some  foreboding  possessed  his  mind. 

This  kind  of  gay  life  suited  Linda.  She 
blossomed  out  into  a  gay  little  lady,  parading 
all  her  new  dresses,  and  was  very  indignant 
with  her  aunt  Winfield  because  she  interdicted 
the  wearing  of  the  most  expensive,  and  the 
gaudiest  colors.  Linda  had  an  astonishing 
wardrobe.  She  would  have  turned  Cad's 
head,  if  that  little  busy  bee's  brain  had  been 
capable  of  such  an  atrocity.  Poor  Fanny 
sighed  over  the  India  mulls  and  painted  mus- 
lins, and  gossamer  silks.  She  privately  in- 
formed her  mother  that  she  thought  Linda 
quite  too  young  for  such  finery.  Mrs.  Win- 
field  thought  so  too,  but  being  judicious,  she 
waited  till  she  was  sure  of  Linda's  love  before 
she  counselled  her. 


1 1 6      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Ross  never  tired  of  the  nursery,  big  fellow 
as  he  was.  He  liked  to  see  the  little  ones 
busy  at  their  play. 

"Kate,  open  shop  for  me,"  he  said,  one 
morning. 

"  Shop"  was  a  small  room  over  the  nursery. 
Mr.  Winfield  had  once  been  paid  an  old 
debt  in  dry  goods,  calicoes,  cottons,  braids, 
hosiery,  linen,  towelling,  &c.,  which  filled  the 
shelves.  Drawers  underneath  were  furnished 
with  spool-cotton,  yarn,  buttons,  needles,  &c., 
making  a  regular  shop  on  a  small  scale. 

Whenever  Mrs.  Winfield  wished  for  mate- 
rial to  make  up  for  domestic  purposes,  Kate 
was  sent  to  open  shop.  A  nominal  price  was 
allowed  for  every  article;  she  measured,  gave 
change,  and  became  in  fact  a  practical  shop- 
keeper. In  a  few  months  it  would  be  Fanny's 
turn  to  superintend  this  little  establishment. 
The  money  was  kept  in  a  small  safe,  and 
used  partly  as  a  charity  fund.  FaYiny  was 
assistant  book-keeper,  and  even  little  Cad 
assisted  in  taking  account  of  stock. 


What  Ross   Wanted.  117 

"There's  a  shop-keeping  instinct  in  me," 
laughed  Ross,  looking  round  the  shelves  as 
they  reached  the  shop.  "  I  shall  have  to  give 
up  law — I  shall  indeed,  and  I  told  papa  so 
yesterday." 

"And  what  did  he  say?" 

"  Didn't  seem  to  mind  it  much — said  if  I 
had  no  fancy  for  it,  it  would  be  useless  to 
go  in  for  it;  what  an  uncommonly  sensible 
man  that  dear  father  of  ours  is!  I  tell  you 
what,  Kate,"  he  added,  swinging  himself  up 
to  the  counter,  "I  should  like  to  be  a  first- 
rate  farmer.  I  always  had  a  fancy,  you  know, 
for  fussing  over  a  garden,  and  that's  the 
calling  for  me.  I'm  studying  chemistry  now, 
and  that's  a  firstrate  help  to  a  fellow.  Good 
farmers  .need  such  knowledge;  in  fact  the 
better  read  a  man  is,  the  better  farmer  he 
is.  I  did'nt  like  the  city,  it's  full  of  misery 
and  wretchedness;  give  me  the  country, 
Kate,  with  you  to  help  manage  a  fellow." 

"  Dear  me,  how  nice  it  would  be,"  Kate 
dreamily  murmured;  "an  old-fashioned  house 


1 1 8      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

in  the  country,  a  dairy,  cows,  hens  and  chick- 
ens— beautiful  fields  all  shining  with  corn  and 
wheat — fruit-orchards — I  don't  wonder  at  any 
one  for  wanting  to  be  a  farmer — but  then," 
she  added  thoughtfully,  "there's  a  great  deal 
of  dirty  work  about  it." 

"  Not  half  as  dirty  as  the  law,"  said  Ross, 
making  a  wry  face.  "  One  may  get  his  hands 
or  his  linen  soiled,  but  that's  better  than  an 
ugly  smutch  on  your  conscience.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  hang  a  man  by  my  special  pleading,  if 
he  deserved  it  ever  so  much,  or  let  a  rascal 
go  unwhipt  of  justice  for  the  payment  of  an 
enormous  fee.  No,  sir,"  he  added,  warming 
up,  "  I  can't  be  a  lawyer;  I've  no  .call  to  be  a 
clergyman,  and  drugs  I  despise." 

"  You  and  I  might  live  on  a  little  farm  to- 
gether," said  Kate,  who  mentally  saw  herself 
mistress  of  a  fine,  cool  dairy,  without  in  the 
least  comprehending  what  its  practical  duties 
were  likely  to  be. 

"  If  father  would  only  take  a  place  in  the 
country,  somewhere,  and  give  up  business !" 


What  Ross   Wanted.  119 

"  I  wish  he  would,"  echoed  Kate.  "  I  don't 
think  he  looks  quite  well  of  late.  I'm  sure  I 
see  mamma  watching  him  anxiously  some- 
times." 

"  He's  the  best  father  that  ever  a  fellow  had, 
I  know  that,"  cried  Ross  with  great  warmth. 

Dusk  was  stealing  into  the  little  shop — a 
golden,  lingering  dusk,  for  the  western  sky 
hung  thick  with  the  richly  tinted  clouds  of 
sunset.  Kate  and  her  brother  went  down  into 
the  nursery,  where  Linda  was  patiently  un- 
dressing Felice,  under  the  supervision  of  Cad, 
and  Fanny  was  knitting  some  little  fancy 
article  for  the  toilet. 

At  length  the  week  of  play  had  come  to  an 
end.  Sunday,  filled  in  with  pleasant  duties 
and  rare  enjoyments,  had  closed,  and  the  next 
sunrise  would  usher  in  the  more  prosaic 
cares  of  school-life. 

On  the  Saturday  preceding,  Cad  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  household  labors. 
Nurse  Barton  had  kindly  polished  the  stove 
for  her ;  the  carpet  had  been  shaken,  the  tins 


1 20      The  Little  Folks  of  RedboW. 

made  to  shine  like  bits  of  silver,  and  the  whole 
kitchen  was  renovated. 

It  had  been  a  novel  thing  to  Linda,  this 
playing  at  work,  but  she  succeeded  very  well 
and  did  great  credit  to  her  patient  little 
teacher.  The  business  of  scrubbing  and 
scouring  was  lightened  by  her  amusing  sto- 
ries of  home,  and  even  Ross  lingered  to  lis- 
ten to  her  merry  descriptions  of  the  water- 
bearers,  the  "  men-washerwomen,"  as  she 
gravely  called  them,  the  cooks  who  got  up 
dinners  on  the  streets,  the  turbaned  coolies, 
the  ayahs,  the  swinging  hammocks,  the  noon- 
day siestas,  and  the  grand  dinners  her  father 
gave  to  the  officers  and  state  dignitaries. 

"  She's  rather  a  nice  little  thing,"  Ross  said 
to  Fanny,  "and  seems  to  have  plenty  of 
money." 

"Yes,  uncle  Harry  is  very  rich,  and  she 
brought  money  with  her.  At  first  she  wanted 
to  buy  every  thing  she  saw,  and  papa  had 
to  limit  her;  she  is  not  as  ravenous  now," 
Kate  added,  laughing. 


What  Ross   Wanted.  121 

Study  was  not  pleasant  to  Linda.  She 
never  had  liked  books,  she  said,  and  forth- 
with began  to  assert  her  resolute  will.  She 
developed  a  capacity  for  mischief,  and  kept 
the  study  in  a  state  of  chronic  unrest,  making 
laughable  pictures  on  her  porcelain  slate,  and 
distorting  her  droll  little  countenance  till  she 
threw  Phil  and  Cad  into  convulsions  of  sup- 
pressed laughter. 

Mrs.  Winfield  turned  her  over  to  Ross,  but 
she  rebelled  worse  than  before. 

One  day  Cad  and  she  were  sent  up  stairs 
for  some  wilful  misdemeanor.  Cad  felt  her- 
self disgraced,  and  retorted  upon  Linda. 

"To  think,"  she  said  with  a  sob,  "you 
should  come  all  the  way  from  India  to  make 
me  wicked!" 

"  Let's  have  a  real  good  time,  and  not 
care,"  retorted  Linda. 

"  But  I  do  care,  when  I  make  my  mamma 
unhappy,"  moaned  Cad. 

Linda  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  her  little 
features  working  drolly. 


122      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

"Truly  and  truly  I  can't  help  it,"  she  said. 
"  I  guess  Vishnu  must  be  in  me.  He  used 
to  get  in  Burdg,  dreadfully — he  was  papa's 
interpreter  you  know." 

"  Who  is  Vishnu  ?"  queried  Cad. 

Linda  put  on  a  mysterious  air. 

"A  dreadful  god,  who  makes  Hindoo  peo- 
ple do  awful  things.  I've  got  him  in  me  as 
sure  as  you're  alive.  Burdg  used  to  wear 
him,  and  he  was  made  out  of  ivory." 

Cad  drew  back  shrinkingly. 

"Then  I'm  afraid  of  you,  and  I  wish  you'd 
staid  in  India,"  she  cried.  Upon  that  Linda's 
face  grew  dark. 

"  I  fancy  Vishnu  is  very  angry  with  you," 
she  said,  scowling,  "and  he  just  wants  to  make 
me  slap  you."  She  sprang  towards  Cad,  who 
in  trying  to  avoid  her  fell  down,  and  Linda, 
to  whom  passion  lent  strength,  dealt  her  a 
series  of  blows  that  might  have  done  irrepara- 
ble mischief  if  nurse  Barton,  attracted  by  the 
noise,  had  not  rushed  in  at  that  moment  and 
separated  them.  Then  poor  Linda,  so  long 


What  Ross   Wan  fed.  123 

untutored  that  she  knew  no  self-restraint, 
threw  herself  upon  the  nurse  with  shrieks  and 
contortions.  Cad  ran  frightened  down  stairs 
to  report  the  matter. 

"  Linda  looked  as  if  she  was  dying,"  she 
said ;  "  her  lips  were  all  covered  with  foam, 
and  she  could  scarcely  breathe." 

The  girls  were  left  in  Ross's  care,  and 
Mrs.  Winfield  hurried  up  stairs,  to  find  the 
poor  child  in  convulsions,  and  Barton  so 
frightened  that  she  could  not  speak. 

A  week's  illness  followed,  during  which 
Cad  moved  round  like  a  shadow,  more  mis- 
erable than  she  had  ever  been  before.  She 
was  sometimes  allowed  to  sit  with  the  little 
invalid,  but  try  hard  as  she  would,  she  could 
not  forget  the  wild  gestures,  the  fearful  name 
of  Vishnu,  the  dilated  eyes  and  foam-specked 
lips  of  her  angry  little  cousin. 

Linda  herself  seemed  thoroughly  ashamed 
of  her  misconduct,  but  excused  herself  by 
saying  that  papa  never  would  let  anybody 
contradict  her. 


124      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  But  don't  you  know  it's  dreadfully  wicked 
to  show  such  temper?"  queried  Cad. 

"  If  people  don't  want  me  to  show  such 
temper,  then  they  must  let  me  have  my  own 
way,"  said  Linda,  complacently. 

"  But  we  don't  always  allow  little  folks 
to  have  their  own  way  in  this  house,"  said 
Mrs.  Winfield,  as  entering  the  room  she  heard 
the  child's  speech;  and  then  she  sat  down 
in  the  darkened  chamber  and  talked  to  her 
as  she  did  to  Cad  and  Fanny.  The  child 
was  silent,  her  great  dark  eyes  roving  from 
object  to  object,  and  her  fingers  separating 
mechanically  a  string  of  amber  beads  with 
which  she  had  been  amusing  herself.  Cad 
had  been  sent  down  stairs. 

"  I'm  sure  Linda,  you  don't  wish  us  to 
banish  you  to  a  house  full  of  strangers, 
where  the  rules  are  strict  and  the  punish- 
ments severe,  rather  than  try  and  conquer 
this  passionate  temper  of  yours." 

"  Papa  wants  me  to  stay  here,"  said  Linda. 

"  Not  unless  we  wish  it,  my  dear.     If  you 


What  Ross   Wanted.  125 

are  unwilling  to  do  as  we  ask  you,  and  make 
us  all  unhappy,  we  are  at  liberty  to  send  you 
to  school.  Sometimes  when  people  grow  up 
with  undisciplined  tempers  they  commit  great 
crimes,  and  people  call  them  insane.  They 
are  insane  when  they  give  themselves  up  to 
such  passions." 

"But  Cad  was  angry  too." 

"Cad  was  angry,  no  doubt;  all  my  little 
girls  forget  themselves  at  times,  and  say  and 
do  what  is  wrong;  but  then  they  are  taught 
to  chain  down  that  quick,  fiery  creature  that 
springs  up  in  their  hearts;  and  they  know  that 
when  they  do  wicked  things,  and  say  imper- 
tinent ones,  they  will  never  be  restored  to 
favor  till  they  are  thoroughly  sorry,  and  say 
so  too." 

"Was  Cad  sorry,  for  that  time?*' 

"Very  sorry.  She  has  told  me  so  many 
times,  with  many  tears.  Indeed,  I  was  afraid 
my  poor  little  Cad  would  be  sick  too,  she 
mourned  so  about  it." 

Linda's  fingers  had  let  the  beads  fall,  and 


126      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

were  tracing  the  pattern  of  the  quilt.  She  had 
heard  something  evidently  quite  new  to  her 
experience.  That  little  window  in  her  soul 
from  which  the  curtain  had  never  been  lifted 
before,  began  to  let  in  the  light  She  traced 
and  thought,  and  thought  and  traced.  The 
defiant  spirit  died  hard. 

"I  wish  I  was  back  in  Irfdia,  with  my  own 
papa,"  she  half  sobbed,  with  quivering  lips. 

"But  you  are  not  back  in  India,  my  little 
one,  and  you  are  with  people  who  will  love 
you  dearly,  if  you  will  only  let  them.  In  this 
house,  you  see,  dear,  the  grown  folks  know 
more  than  the  children,  and  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  being  obeyed.  There  can  be  no 
order  and  beauty  unless  certain  rules  are 
followed,  and  the  little  folks  abide  by  them. 
During  study  hours,  they  must  try  to  learn;  if 
they  are  disobedient,  they  must  be  punished." 

"Are  you  going  to  punish  me?"  quivered 
Linda. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  are  already  punished 
quite  enough*?  Here  you  have  been  lying  in 


What  Ross   Wanted.  127 

a  dark  room,  with  aching  temples,  while  the 
other  children  have  taken  their  walks  and 
drives,  and  been  happy  down  stairs.  Do  you 
think  you  need  any  more  punishment,  my 
poor  little  darling?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  sobbed  Linda,  breaking  down, 
the  cords  of  her  throat  and  temples  swelling 
with  her  grief;  "I  deserve  to  be  sent  right  off 
to  some  horrid  boarding-school.  O  dear,  I 
didn't  know  that  it  was  so  wicked.  I'll  try 
to  be  a  better  girl,  if  you  will  only  keep  me 
here." 

Mrs.  Winfield  gathered  the  trembling  little 
creature  up  in  her  loving  arms,  and  rained 
kisses  upon  the  wet  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks. 
This  was  what  she  had  longed  for,  but  almost 
despaired  of  hearing,  and  it  warmed  her  heart 
to  the  very  core.  For  a  long  time  she  sat 
there,  talking  in  the  sweet  low  voice  of  love, 
till  Linda,  her  little  dark  face  spiritualized,  her 
eyes  soft  and  shining,  felt  as  if  she  had  passed 
into  a  new  condition, — that  henceforth  she 
should  try  to  obey,  because  love  required  it. 


128      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

Her  little  heart  had  been  lifted  for  the  first 
time  to  the  dear  Lord  and  Redeemer  of 
little  children,  and  Linda's  spiritual  life  was 
beginning. 

Mrs.  Winfield  went  into  the  nursery.  Cad 
was  there. 

"  Go  in  and  try  to  make  little  Linda  happy," 
said 'her  mother. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

COMING      SHADOWS. 

"  And  in  misfortune's  dreary  hour, 

Or  fortune's  prosperous  gale, 
'Twill  have  a  holy,  cheering  power, 
There's  no  such  word  a.sfail." 

ROPPED  up  by  pillows,  Linda  was 
sitting  on  the  bed  when  Cad  came 
in  beaming,  her  arms  overflowing 
with  dolls.  In  all  directions  their 
placid,  painted  faces  peeped  out,  some  at  her 
throat,  some  at  the  back  of  her  elbows,  and 
some  their  heads,  reversing  the  natural  order 
of  things,  where  their  feet  should  have  been. 
Soon  Cad's  boxes  were  spread  out  and  her 
budget  of  finery  arranged. 

"You   don't  like   dolls    much,   do  you?" 
queried  Cad. 

9  129 


130      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"I  was  thinking,"  said  Linda,  her  tones 
subdued,  "Petkin  is  homely,  isn't  she;  but 
she's  good.  Now  these  finely  dressed  dolls 
have  everything  they  want,  but  you  can't  wash 
their  faces  with  a  real  wash-rag;  I  suppose 
they  get  in  a  fearful  passion,  sometimes." 

"O   no — never!"     said    Cad,  shaking    her 
head  decisively. 

"Well,  I  wish  they  would;  I  wish  they'd 
get  in  a  raging,  tearing  passion — well — just  so 
I  could  see  myself,"  she  added,  humbly. 

"  I  suppose  they  might"  responded  Cad, 
thoughtfully,  looking  at  the  matter  in  a  new 
light.  "  I  suppose  if  I  began  to  shake  them, 
and  push  and  scold  them — but  no,  that  would 
be  bad  temper  in  me.  Still,  they  might  be 
unreasonable  and  get  angry  for  nothing,  as 
we  do  sometimes,  you  know." 

"As  we  always  do." 

"No,  not  always;  mamma  says  it  is  quite 

natural   that  we   should  want  our   own  way 

sometimes,  only  we.  can't  see  as  far  as  she 

( can  what  would  be  good  for  us,  and  it  must 


Coming  Shadows.  131 

be  a  real  disappointment  to  us.  That's  why 
she  teaches  us  to  bear  it  patiently,  and  don't 
scold.  And  her  saying  that,  and  feeling  bad 
for  us,  makes  it  a  good  deal  easier  to  give  up. 
Don't  you  see  ?" 

Linda  thought  she  did. 

"  Isn't  your  mamma  elegant?"  she  cried; 

Cad  bent  down  and  kissed  the  dark  little 
face.  In  that  most  eloquent  way  she  ex- 
pressed her  thanks.  It  was  perfect  rapture  to 
hear  her  mother  praised. 

There  came  a  fearful  rap  at  the  door,  and 
then  an  avalanche  of  oranges  as  its  was 
opened,  and  picture  books,  and  a  roll  of 
candy. 

"  That's  like  boys !"  said  Cad,  as  Phil  gave 
a  whoop,  Indian  fashion,  and  was  out  of  sight. 
Phil  means  all  these  for  you;  but  what 
a  queer  way  of  doing  it!" 

And  this  was  Linda's  lesson.  She  went 
down  stairs  a  few  days  afterwards,  determined 
to  be  good;  but  she  found  out  what  older 
people  than  she  are  sometimes  a  long  time 


132      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

learning,  that  it  was  only  a  step  at  a  time, 
and  not  a  sudden  spring  into  reformation. 

And  now  something  occurred  that  robbed 
home  of  much  of  its  beauty.  The  children 
met  as  usual  in  the  general  play-room,  but 
the  father  was  often  absent.  To  be  sure,  Ross 
threw  his  slender  proportions  on  the  great 
lounge,  after  his  father's  fashion,  but  nobody 
felt  that  he  filled  his  father's  place.  They 
missed  the  hearty  laugh,  the  cheery,  grown- 
up voice.  Mrs.  Winfield  wore  an  anxious 
expression.  What  did  it  mean?  what  could 
be  going  to  happen? 

Kate  and  Ross  had  many  private  little 
talks  about  it,  as  they  worked  over  their 
new  aquarium.  See-weed  and  shells,  and 
pure  white  sand  formed  the  basis  of  this 
novel  home  for  fishes,  and  Ross  had  built 
quite  a  marine  castle  of  bits  of  coral  and  stone. 

"'  No,  I  really  don't  understand  why  papa 
should  be  absent  so  much,"  said  Ross.  "  You 
see  I  put  these  pieces  of  looking-glass  in  the 
back  of  the  case,  to  enlarge  the  view.  Do 


Coming  Shadows.  133 

you  remember  what  uncle  wrote  us  about 
the  great  Paris  aquarium,  where  the  light 
was  arranged  so  as  to  fall  over  large  mirrors 
inserted  as  panels,  and  one  seemed  to  look 
out  into  the  caverns  under  the  sea.  They 
gave  the  effect  of  space.  There!  now  we'll 
get  some  of  those  gelatinous  fish,  rose-colored, 
that  look  so  like  lovely  flowers — some  gold 
fish,  and  they,  with  the  tadpoles  and  the 
crab,  will  make  our  collection  one  not  to  be 
despised,  I  can  tell  you." 

"There's  trouble  somewhere,"  said  Kate, 
after  assenting  to  her  brother's  speech,  "  for 
I  heard  father  say  that  he  should  hate  most 
of  all  to  give  up  the  house,  but  for  the  sake 
of  his  creditors  he  supposed  it  must  be  done." 

"Why,  Kate!"  exclaimed  Ross,  his  work 
losing  all  its  interest,  "  does  it  mean  that 
father  is  going  to  fail,  I  wonder?  That  would 
be  dreadful!"  " 

"  I'm  afraid  it  does,"  replied  Kate. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE      NEWS. 

"A  country  lad  is  my  degree, 
And  few  there  are  that  ken  me  0." 

AM  not  going  back  to  college, 
that's  settled,"  said  Ross  on  the 
following  day. 

"Are  you   sorry?"   asked  Kate, 
who  seemed  a  shade  older  and  quieter. 

Cad  and  Linda  were  as  busy  as  they  could 
be  in  the  kitchen;  Fanny  had  gone  out  to 
walk  with  nurse  and  the  baby. 

"Sorry!  what  a  question;  why,  if  it  wasn't 
for  one  thing  and  another,  I  should  be  per- 
fectly^ happy.  I'm  sorry  for  father;  but  he 
don't  consider  himself  badly  off,  he  says, 
since  he  finds  that  he  can  pay  every  cent  on 
the  dollar." 

'      134 


The  News.  135 

"  But  it  seems  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  be 
poor,  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  fail !  We  never 
have  been  poor,  you  know." 

"  That's  nonsense,"  said  Ross,  with  more 
energy  than  grace.  "Nobody  is  poor  who  is 
strong  and  willing  to  work ;  that's  the  way  I 
look  at  it.  One  of  our  boys  at  college  lost  a 
fortune  he  never  had;  I  mean  his  uncle  had 
made  him  his  heir,  and  was  supposed  to  be  a 
very  rich  man,  but  he  died  insolvent.  You'd 
have  thought  Ned — it  was  Ned  Barker — had 
lost  every  friend  and  every  prospect  in  life. 
He  went  about  like  a  whipped  puppy,  ears 
down.  There  wasn't  a  fellow  in  the  school 
didn't  despise  him;  yQu  should  have  heard 
him  talk  of  his  damaged  prospects,  after  he 
had  been  drinking  pretty  freely.  What  kind 
of  a  fellow  is  that  to  get  through  the  world  ? 
I'd  throw  down  books  and  go  shovel,  if  I  was 
actually  afraid  of  poverty." 

Kate  listened,  and  her  spirits  began  to  rise. 

"  On  the  whole,  it's  not  a  bad  thing  to  be 
dependent  on  your  muscle,"  continued  Ross, 


136      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

planting  his  feet  more  firmly,  and  throwing 
back  his  handsome  head.  "  A  spade  is  better 
than  dumb-bells ;  carting  gravel  is  quite  as 
wholesome  as  lifting  twice  one's  weight." 

"  Do  you  suppose  every  thing  will  have  to 
be  sold  ?"  queried  Kate,  as  she  sewed  her  long 
white  seam.  It  is  curious  how  one  bright 
face  will  brighten  another.  Kate  was  quite 
eager  to  make  the  best  of  circumstances  now. 
Shouldn't  wonder,"  was  Ross's  reply. 

"Where  shall  we  go?" 

"It's  not  decided  yet.  My  vote,  if  it  is 
worth  counting,  shall  be  put  in  for  the  coun- 
try. I'm  after  a  bit  of  land  to  farm,  you  see ; 
to  study  my  profession." 

"  Suppose  we  should  have  to  do  without 
servants  ?" 

"Well,  suppose  we  do  with  fewer?"  said 
Ross.  "We  can  dispense  with  John,  though 
wont  the  old  fellow  take  it  hard  ?  Fan  can 
play  nurse.  She  likes  Prince  Charlie  enough 
to  tend  him  from  morning  till  night,  though 
when  it  comes  to  "have  to,"  it  sometimes 


The  News.  137 

makes  a  difference.  Don't  worry,  Kate;  it 
won't  take  papa  long  to  get  his  head  above 
water  again ;  and  it  wasn't  his  fault  that  he 
failed,  it's  all  the  other  firm's.  I  don't  believe 
father  has  ever  set  his  heart  on  riches;  he's 
too  much  of  a  Christian  for  that." 

Cad's  voice  sounded  in  a  little  nursery 
roundelay. 

"The  dear  little  girl!"  exclaimed  Ross; 
"she  must  have  silver  wings,  somewhere — 
always  so  contented  with  humble  duties.  If 
Cad  were  only  older,  she'd  be  chief  cook  and 
bottle-washer,  and  enjoy  it  too,  I  thoroughly 
believe." 

"What  will  be  done  with  Linda?"  asked 
Kate,  anxiously. 

Ross  looked  grave. 

"She  may  have  to  be  sent  to  boarding- 
school." 

"  I  don't  believe  mamma  will  let  her  go," 
said  Kate,  sagely;  "it  would  be  a  pity;  she  is 
just  forming  her  mind,  you  know." 

Ross  laughed. 


1 38      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbaw. 

"I  wonder  what  shape  it  will  take?  I  sup- 
pose uncle  Harry  could  set  father  up  again, 
but  he'll  never  know  it,  not  from  papa.  I 
don't  think  he'd  let  himself  be  helped." 

"Does  papa  know  we  know  it?" 

"I  suppose  so;  he  hasn't  tried  to  keep  it 
a  secret." 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Winfield  came  into 
the  nursery.  Kate  watched  her  anxiously, 
but  she  wore  the  same  cheerful  countenance, 
only  her  face  was  a  shade  paler.  She  busied 
herself  for  a  moment,  flitting  from  table  to 
closet  in  the  sunshine,  then  exchanging  a 
pleasant  word  with  Ross,  she  went  out 
again. 

Ross  went  and  stood  opposite  the  pictured 
face  of  his  own  mother. 

"I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  as  Kate's  eye 
caught  his,  "how  happy  our  own  sweet  mother 
must  be,  if  some  one  has  told  her  in  her 
beautiful  home  how  well  her  place  is  filled. 
Kate,  isn't  she  a  darling,  that  mother  of  our's? 
Some  women  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  such 


The  News.  139 

a  home  as  this,  would  go  round  as  glum 
and  sour — especially  if  she  wasn't  our  own 
mother." 

Kate's  eyes  shone  through  tears. 

"Indeed  she  is  a  darling/'  she  murmured, 
and  the  words  came  from  a  full  heart 

"That  evening  Mr.  Winfield  returned  early. 
All  the  family  were  expectant  and  anxious, 
even  Phil  looked  grave. 

Cad  and  Linda  sat  apart  from  the  rest,  both 
very  busy  over  the  pattern  of  a  new  dress 
for  Petkin.  Cad  had  bought  the  calico  that 
afternoon  at  the  shop. 

"  Well,  children,  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
the  news,"  said  Mr.  Winfield,  as  the  elder  ones 
drew  up  in  a  circle  near  him. 

Their  faces  answered  him. 

"You  don't  look  very  unhappy." 

They  all  broke  into  smiles. 

"Thank  God  for  that — and  thank  God 
that  it  will  not  touch  my  honor,"  he  said, 
much  moved ;  "  that  makes  me  a  happy  man. 
But,  children,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  give 


140      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

up  some  of  the  luxuries  to  which  we  have 
been  accustomed." 

"  We  are  all  ready  to  do  that,"  said  Ross. 

"Thank  you,  my  boy,  and  how  about 
college?  Your  mother  and  myself  think 
that  with  the  exercise  of  strict  economy, 
we  can  still  take  you  through  the  remaining 
two  years." 

"  If  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  sir,"  said  the 
boy,  reddening  a  little,  "  I  had  rather  leave 
college,  and  do  my  part  towards  helping 
support  the  family." 

Mr.  Winfield's  lip  trembled. 

"Isn't  he  splendid?"  thought  Kate,  sur- 
veying her  hero  with  kindling  eyes. 

"  Just  as  you  say,  my  boy,"  his  father 
replied,  recovering  his  self-possession.  "As 
long  as  you  have  a  distaste  for  the  profession 
I  should  have  chosen  for  you,  you  can  do 
as  you  choose  about  going  back.  Now  your 
mother  has  something  to  say." 

They  all  turned  towards  her.  Cad  was 
already  at  her  feet,  having  brought  cushion- 


The  News.  141 

work  and  all,  to  nestle  near  her  "  angel,"  as 
she  often  called  her  mother, 

"You  have  heard,  dears,  that  I  have  a 
little  home  of  my  own,"  she  said  in  a  soft, 
clear  voice,  "  in  the  western  part  of  the  state. 
It  is  a  stone  house,  quite  pleasantly  situated 
on  rising  land,  and  surrounded  by  delightful 
scenery.  It  stands  at  the  base  of  a  mountain, 
from  which  it  takes  its  name.  We  call  it 
Redbow." 

"How  beautiful!"  cried  Cad.  "Dear  me, 
I  must  tell  Petkin  about  it.  I  hope  there 
are  no  Indians  there." 

"  No,  darling,  the  Indians  by  whom  it  is 
supposed  the  mountain  was  named,  are  all 
gone,  long  ago." 

"  Away  off  in  the  country,"  said  Cad,  in 
disappointed  tones;  stretches  of  lovely  fields 
i'jid  no  shop-windows  with  ribbons  in  them 
presenting  themselves  to  her  vision. 

"  Yes,  dear,  quite  in  the  country,  you  must 
make  up  your  mind  to  that — miles  from  any 
other  farm." 


142       The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  Father,  you  are  welcome  to  my  hundred 
dollars,"  said  Phil,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  when 
he  had  reached  a  proximity  from  where  he 
could  be  heard;  and  his  father's  smile,  as  he 
looked  down  upon  him,  was  worth  more  to 
the  boy  than  a  good  many  hundred  dollars. 
Phil  sidled  away,  red  as  a  turkey  in  the  face, 
but  with  a  strange  happiness  in  his  heart. 

"I  say,  is  there  any  place  for  fishing?"  he 
asked,  as  he  neared  Mrs.  Winfield  again. 

"A  grand  old  river,  full  of  trout,"  replied 
his  mother,  smiling. 

"Then  hurrah  for  trout!  and  my  new 
patent  fly.  Three  cheers  for  Redbow — I'm 
glad  we're  poor!" 

A  general  laugh  sent  Phil  behind  the 
globes. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    TALK    ABOUT    I  Ti 

11  Let  not  one  look  of  Fortune  cast  you  down, 
She  were  not  Fortune  if  she  did  not  frown." 

RE  we  going  into  the  country  ?" 
whispered  Linda,  who  had  watched 
proceedings  thus  far  with  curious 
eyes. 

"Yes,  indeed;  won't  it  be  el-e-gant?  We 
can  carry  our  dolls  into  the  woods  and  dress 
them.  I'll  have  my  kitchen  under  a  big  shady 
tree.  Aint  you  glad?" 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Linda,  with  some  hesi- 
tation. 

"The  house  is  not  as  spacious  as  this  one," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield,  resuming  the  subject, 
"but  there  are  two  or  three  quite  large  rooms. 

143 


144      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

It  was  left  by  my  great-aunt  just  as  it  stands, 
very  plain  and  old-fashioned  in  its  furnishing. 
But  satin  chairs  and  fine  upholstery  are  not 
necessary  to  our  happiness,"  she  added,  with 
a  smile. 

"I  should  think  not,"  Ross  responded. 
"What  do  we  care  for  our  fine  drawing-room 
across  the  hall?  Even  company  always  brings 
up  in  this  nice  old  place ;  nobody'll  miss  the 
extra  touches." 

"Then  we  can  turn  Redbow  parlor  into  a 
sitting-room,  and  enjoy  it,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
field.  "I  dare  say  we  shall  like  it  quite  as 
well  as  this,  after  a  while." 

"Let's  have  the  nursery  out-doors,"  pro- 
posed Cad,  "then  there'll  be  lots  of  room." 

"And  a  general  nursery,  as  aunt  Chlce  says, 
when  winter  comes,"  said  Ross,  when  the 
laugh  at  Cad's  expense  had  subsided. 

"It's  a  dear  old  rocky,  woodsey,  breezy, 
comfortable  place,'  continued  the  mother, 
"and  that's  all  it  is.  When  I  was  a  child,  I 
was  never  so  happy  as  at  Redbow.  I  can 


A  Talk  About  It.  145 

smell  its  old  oven,  full  of  baked  sweet  pears, 
now." 

"Then  there  must  be  fruit,"  said,  Kate. 

"  Plenty,  of  all  kinds.  There's  a  wilderness 
of  red  currants,  and  a  hedge-fence  of  white 
ones.  Then  there  are  raspberries,  strawber- 
ries, blackberries  and  dewberries,  all  in  their 
season.  Better  pears,  apples  and  peaches, 
never  grew — besides  grapes  of  every  variety." 
"I  don't  see  but  what  you  propose  to 
transport  us  to  paradise,"  laughed  Mr.  Win- 
field. 

"Plenty  of  land,  I  suppose,"  said  Ross. 

"Only  forty  acres — nearly  ten  cultivated." 
Ross   pressed   his    lips   together,   and   his 
eyes    sparkled.     To    him    all    the    pleasures 
of  life  were  compressed  into  that  one  word, 
farming. 

"  Cows   and  pigs,  and  that  sort  of  thing," 
said  Cad. 

"  Cows,  certainly,  I  hope,"  said  her  mother, 
"The  persons  who  hire  the  place  at  present, 
own  all  the   stock." 
10 


146      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"We'll  buy  it  all,"  said  Cad.  "There's 
plenty  of  money  in  the  shop." 

Cad  meant  their  shop  up  stairs. 

"Our  best  way  will  be  to  decide  upon 
what  furniture  to  send  up,"  said  Mr.  Win- 
field.  "Tomorrow  is  the  first  of  May;  the 
sale  will  take  place  on  the  tenth.  I  don't 
care  about  staying  till  the  red  flag  is  hung 
from  the  window." 

"Dear  me,  if  we  are  to  go  so  soon,  what 
shall  I  do?"  said  Cad,  in  a  perplexed  voice. 
"Petkin  must  have  her  new  dress  finished, 
and  several  of  the  others  need  new  suits." 

"How  about  Linda?"  asked  Mr.  Winfield, 
in  a  lower  voice.  "  I  don't  know  that  we 
should  compel  her  to  share  our  altered  for- 
tunes. Perhaps  I  ought  to  find  her  a  good 
boarding-school." 

"O,  papa!  don't,  don't!"  cried  a  little  voice 
sharpened  by  terror. 

It  was  Linda.  She  had  never  called  him 
"papa"  before,  and  this  little  lapse  touched 
his  heart. 


A   Talk  About  It.  147 

"Then  you  will  go  into  the  wilderness  with 
us,  birdie  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  anywhere;  don't  send  me 
away.  I  should  break  my  heart  without  Cad. 
And  papa  would  say  so;  he  wants  me  to 
learn  to  be  good." 

Another  moment  and  she  was  folded  in 
the  motherly  arms  of  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"I  couldn't  have  let  you  go,  birdie,"  she 
said.  "There,  there — don't  cry,"  as  Linda 
hid  her  wet  eyes  on  her  bosom ;  "  it  is  all 
decided,  and  our  little  girl  is  to  stay  with  us." 

Next  came  the  choice  of  furniture;  each 
child  had  the  privilege  of  selecting  some 
portion.  Ross  wanted  the  sitting-room  tables 
and  desks,  and  the  handsome  red  easy  chairs 
in  the  parlor.  Kate  chose  the  piano,  music 
racks  and  stool,  and  might  she  petition  for 
their  pretty  nursery  carpet? 

The  carpet  was  vetoed,  reluctantly,  by  Mr. 
Winfield.  He  didn't  believe  in  carpets,  and 
never  had.  Fanny  suggested  the  shop,  and 
that  was  considered  sensible. 


1 48      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  What  will  we  do  for  dress-makers  ?"  she 
asked  aside,  ruefully. 

"  Import   two    or   three  dozen,"  said  "Ross. 

"We  can  make  all  our  own  dresses,"  said 
Kate. 

"  Just  as  I  do  for  my  babies,"  echoed  Cad, 
cutting  away  on  her  small  lap-board. 

"Well,  little  folks,  any  thing  else?"  asked 
papa,  after  a  pause. 

"  All  the  books,"  said  Ross. 

"The  best  of  them,"  said  his  father. 
,  "We  must  manage  it  to  take  our  nurse, 
I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield.  "The  good 
soul  says  she  will  go  on  less  wages  because 
she  is  so  much  attached  to  the  children.  I 
believe  the  only  thing  she  regrets  leaving 
behind,  is  St.  Mary's  and  its  chimes." 

"  Reminds  her  of  hold  Hengland,"  muttered 
Ross. 

"As  to  other  servants,  we  must  wait  awhile. 
There  are  two  nice  old  people  on  the  place, 
who  have  lived  there  rent-free  for  years.  Mar- 
tha Primrose  used  to  be  a  smart  woman." 


A  Talk  About  It.  149 

"  I'll  wash  and  iron  all  the  little  things," 
said  Cad,  confidently. 

"  Poor  child,"  laughed  her  mother,  "  you 
don't  know  what  you  bargain  for.  All  the 
little  things,  means  the  largest  and  most  res- 
ponsible part  of  the  work.  We  must  spare 
your  willing  little  fingers  yet  awhile." 

"  Ross,"  said  Mr.  Winfield,  coming  out  of 
a  reverie,  "  I  appoint  you  teacher  and  tutor 
in  chief,  till  we  get  settled.  It  won't  do  to 
have  our  little  folks  running  wild,  and  mother 
has  her  hands  full -enough  at  present." 

"  I'll  take  the  responsibility,"  replied  Ross, 
squaring  his  shoulders. 

"  Where's  Phil,  all  this  time  ?"  queried 
Kate. 

"  Fast  asleep  behind  the  western  hemis- 
phere," replied  Fanny.  "I  think  he  ought 
to  live  in  the  country  and  go  to  roost  with 
the  chickens." 

No  one  would  have  thought,  looking  round 
that  brilliant  room,  with  its  busts,  pictures, 
and  plants,  and  cheerful  fire  and  sunny  faces; 


150      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

listening  to  the  merriment  of  happy  voices, 
the  merry  laugh,  the  steady  tones — that  mis- 
fortune had  overtaken  them,  and  that  this 
princely  home  would  soon  be  no  longer  a 
shelter  and  a  temple  for  them. 

Mr.  Winfield  alone  was  thoughtful.  It 
was  no  light  thing  to  break  away  from  these 
charming  associations  after  thirty  years  of 
unbroken  prosperity;  but  at  the  same  time  he 
had  learned  not  to  set  his  heart  on  riches,  and 
though  cast  down,  he  was  not  discouraged. 
He  was  still  a  young  man,  comparatively,  and 
the  world  was  all  before  him. 

Meantime  the  children  indulged  in  the  most 
pleasing  anticipations.  Mamma  was  besieged 
with  questions  as  to  the  position,  surround- 
ings and  possibilties  of  Redbow.  Every  room, 
nook  and  corner  were  accurately  described ; 
its  paths,  its  garden,  its  walks,  its  roads. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BREAD     AND      HONEY. 

"  The  daily  labors  of  the  bee 
Awake  my  soul  to  industry ; 
Who  can  observe  the  careful  ant, 
And  not  provide  for  future  want?" 

ULL  of  business  was  Cad's  little 
head.  How  she  should  pack  her 
cooking-stove  and  all  the  utensils, 
how  she  should  secure  her  dolls  and 
her  games,  and  where  she  should  put  them 
when  she  reached  Redbow,  sadly  perplexed 
her  busy  little  faculties. 

"  For  you  see,  Linda,  there's  no  dear  old 
nursery  at  Redbow,  and  what  shall  I  do  for 
places  to  put  things?" 

"May-be  there's  a  shed,"  Linda. 

"  But  my  things  are  too  nice  for  a  shed," 


152      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

responded  Cad.  "Why,  Felice  would  catch 
her  death  in  such  a  place ;  besides,  she's  been 
used  to  elegance  all  her  life." 

"You  might  keep  her  in  the  parlor,  shut 
up  in  a  closet,"  said  Linda,  who,  although 
Felice  had  become  her  property,  always 
seemed  to  consider  that  Cad  was  best  entitled 
to  the  ownership. 

"Would  you  have  me  break  her  heart?" 

"She  hasn't  got  any  heart,"  said  practical 
Linda. 

"What!  my  Felice?  No  heart!  and  come 
from  Paris?"  cried  Cad,  aghast.  "You  don't 
know  dolls  as  well  as  I  do,  or  you'd  never 
say  that" 

"  How  can  she  have  a  heart,  if  she's  stuffed 
full  of  saw-dust?" 

"  That's  only  bones  and  muscles  and  blood- 
vessels," retorted  Cad.  "  The  heart  is  some- 
thing entirely  different;  do  you  suppose  I 
could  love  children  without  hearts?  I  guess 
you'd  better  not  talk  of  things  you  don't 
understand,"  she  added  sagely,  dismissing 


Bread  and  Honey.  153 

the  subject;  as  many  a  more  able  philosopher 
does,  when  the  questions  get  too  difficult. 

Fanny  was  busy  with  her  beloved  fancy 
work.  She  had  designed  a  new  pattern 
for  a  tidy,  and  was  very  proud  of  it.  Kate 
looked  over  it  admiringly. 

"You  have  such  taste!"  she  said;  "what  a 
beautiful  stitch!" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time 
for  this  sort  of  thing  at  Redbow — hateful 
place  !"  answered  Fanny. 

"  Why,  Fanny  dear  !"  Kate  exclaimed,  sur- 
prised at  her  sister's  tone,  "I  thought  you 
liked  it." 

"Like  it!  It  gives  me  the  chills  whenever 
I  think  of  it.  We  shall  be  so  lonesome!" 
*y.;vered  Fanny,  ready  to  cry.  "And  then 
think  what  dowdies  we  shall  grow  to  be, 
just  like  all  country  people,  making  our 
dresses,  and  bonnets,  and  wearing  hen  fea- 
thers, perhaps,  instead  of  real  ostrich!" 

"How  absurd!"  Kate  exclaimed,  laughing. 

"  You  don't  care — anything  contents  you," 


i '5  4      TJie  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

said  Fanny  impatiently;  "  but  I'm  different 
like  our  drives,  and  to  see  folks.  I  hate  to 
leave  my  friends,  and  of  course  the  girls  I 
know  will  never  come  to  Redbow.  I'm  afraid 
of  the  long,  lonely  winters,  when  the  snow  is 
piled  up  outside.  I  shall  miss  the  sights  and 
the  shop-windows,  and  going  out  to  buy 
things,  and  meeting  acquaintances,  and  going 
to  parties — there'll  be  an  end  of  all  that." 

"  But  there  are  the  woods,  the  hills,  the 
flowers,  the  rivers — what  do  we  want  of 
1  acquaintances  ?  Won't  it  be  more  delight- 
ful to  find  wild  flowers  and  botanize,  than 
to  buy  stupid  ribbons — though  to  be  sure 
ribbons  are  very  good  in  their  place,  and 
when  we  want  fresh  ones  we  can  get  them 
somehow.  Even  in  winter  there'll  be  no  end 
of  fun,  and  sleigh  rides — plenty  of  ponds  for 
skating — and  we  have  our  nice  skating 
dresses.  Only  think  of  the  fruit,  and  the 
clear  air  in  summer,  and  all  out-doors,  as 
Cad  says,  to  enjoy  ourselves  in  ?" 

Fanny  still  looked   rueful.     She  was   more 


Bread  and  Honey.  155 

worldly  than  Kate,  and  clung  to  the -city  and 
ribbons.  She  could  not  help  it  that  her 
inclinations  were  different,  that  they  tended 
towards  excitement  and  variety ;  she  was  not 
really  to  blame  that  she  had  no  enthusiastic 
love  for  the  country,  but  it  was  clearly  her 
duty  to  try  and  bear  with  fortitude  the 
changes  imposed  upon  her. 

Meantime  cheerful,  sunshiny  Cad,  gave  a 
good-night  confidential  talk  to  all  her  dolls, 
telling  them  that  they  were  soon  to  go  to 
a  new  home — Linda  sitting  by,  quite  willing, 
in  the  joy  of  her  heart  that  she  was  not  to 
be  sent  away,  to  believe  that  they  had  ears 
that  could  hear,  and  eyes  that  could  see. 

"  You  just  belong  to  us  now,"  said  Cad, 
kissing  Linda  and  giving  her  a  hug;  "and 
you  won't  mind  being  poor  a  bit,  will  you?" 

"  Not  one  bit,"  replied  Linda,  who  had  no 
more  idea  of  what  poverty  could  be,  than  the 
canary  that  cradled  its  head  under  its  feathers 
in  the  cage  in  the  nursery  window. 

"  I    guess   you'd    even   eat    bread   without 


156      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

butter,  and  stay  with  us,  if  we  couldn't  get 
any  butter." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Linda,  complacently,  "  I'd 
quite  as  lief  have  honey;"  and  the  two  little 
girls  went  very  lovingly  arm  in  arm  to  their 
bedroom. 

Fanny  could  not  sleep  that  night,  thinking 
over  the  strange  events  of  the  few  past  days. 
To  her  fertile  imagination  it  seemed  as  if 
they  had  been  suddenly  stripped  of  all  that 
could  make  life  desirable.  She  could  not, 
like  Linda,  fancy  even  honey  taking  the  place 
of  butter.  As  for  ribbons,  they  were,  doubt- 
less, things  of  the  past,  but  she  should  keep 
and  cherish  her  little  store  for  the  sake  of 
old  times. 

It  was  easier  to  feel  reconciled  when  talking 
with  Kate.  When  alone  by  herself,  a  look 
into  the  future  appalled  her,  it  was  so  dark. 
She  wondered  if  Kate  was  asleep,  and  getting 
up,  stole  to  the  door. 

There  was  a  dim  light  in  the  nursery;  nurse 
Barton  was  kneeling  down  at  the  end  of  the 


Bread  and  Honey.  157 

room  at  her  prayers.  She  looked  up  and 
called:  - 

"Who's  there?" 

"It's  only  I,  nurse,"  said  Fanny.  "I'm 
going  to  speak  to  Kate." 

"Dear  laws!  if  I  didn't  think  it  was  a  real 
spook,  miss  !"  said  the  nurse,  to  Fanny's  great 
amusement. 

She  went  to  Kate's  door  and  stole  softly 
in.  Kate  was  prepared  for  her  coming, 
having  heard  her  voice.  She,  too,  had  been 
lying  awake,  watching  the  moon  and  think- 
ing. 

"Kate,  are  you  asleep?"  whispered  Fanny. 

"No;  I'm  wide  awake,"  said  Kate. 

"Are  you  nervous?" 

"-Not  a  bit." 

"I  am,  so  I  came  in  here  to  have  a  talk." 

"We  ought  both  to  be  asleep  by  this  time," 
said  conscientious  Kate. 

"I  know  it,  but  if  one  can't,  how  can  one?" 

Kate  laughed. 

"Sure  enough,"  she  said. 


158      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"I'll  just  sit  here  a  moment  in  your  old 
rocking-chair.  How  beautiful  the  moon  is !" 

"Yes,  I  was  just  thinking  how  lovely  Red- 
bow  must  look !" 

"  Redbow !  I  haven't  even  tried  to  think 
how  it  looks.  I  tell  you,  though,  it's  a  coarse 
old  country  house,  with  low  ceilings  and  plas- 
tered walls.  O  dear,  how  I  shall  miss  every 
thing  nice!  It  makes  my  heart  ache;  who 
will  there  be  to  associate  with?" 

"I  was  in  hopes  you  had  got  over  those 
doleful  fancies,"  said  Kate. 

"  No,  they  keep  coming,  like  so  many  crows. 
Only  think,  Kate,  no  carriage — actually,  no 
carriage — and  we  have  been  used  to  that  all 
our  lives.  It  seems  to  me  papa  had  no  busi- 
ness to  fail." 

"  O !  Fanny — poor  papa !  when  it  was  not 
his  fault,  either." 

Fanny  did  not  answer.  She  threw  her 
arms  over  her  knees,  and  back-locked  her 
fingers,  a  way  girls  have,  so  that  she  cut  a 
queer  figure  in  the  bright  moonlight,  with  her 


Bread,  and  Honey.  159 

sad  face  and  long  white  robe.  Kate  smiled  as 
she  looked  at  her,  saying  to  herself,  "  Fanny 
wouldn't  like  to  have  her  picture  taken  now." 
"  Everybody  will  cut  us,"  pursued  poor 
Fanny,  dolefully.  "  You  know  that's  what 
they  call  it,  when  folks  don't  notice  you." 

"  But  we  shan't  see  them,  Fanny  dear,  and 
who  cares?" 

"I  do,"  murmured  the  disconsolate.  "I 
don't  want  to  grow  up  a  great  overgrown 
country  girl,  with  my  hands  all  knuckles,  and 
my  face  all  freckles.  I  like  to  be  graceful 
and  nice  and  lady-like,"  she  added,  the  tears 
coming  to  her  eyes.  "  Redbow  sounds  just 
like  a  dreadful  savage  place,  full  of  pigs  and 
cows  and  mud.  I  do  wish  somebody  would 
adopt  me,  and  keep  me  here." 

"  Little  Miss  Nightcap,"  said  a  laughing 
voice,  "hadn't  you  better  go  to  bed?" 

Fanny  sprang  up  with  a  cry.  There  stood 
her  mother. 

Fanny  wanted  the  floor  to  open  just  then, 
she  was  so  overwhelmed  with  the  fear  that 


1 60      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Mrs.  Winfield  had  heard  her  miserable  com- 
plaining. 

"I  came  up  to  see  if  you  were  all  comfort- 
able," said  her  mother,  out  of  whose  voice  the 
laugh  had  not  yet  gone,  "and  finding  one 
bed  empty,  I  was  alarmed.  Are  these  moon- 
light excursions  frequent,  Kate  ?" 

"No,  indeed,  mamma;  only  Fanny  was 
nervous,  and  she  takes  me  as  an  anodyne 
sometimes,"  said  Kate,  laughing.  "Do  you 
object  to  it  very  much?" 

"  It  is  not  good  as  a  habit,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
field;  "the  best  way  is  to  get  every  thing  off 
your  mind  before  bed-time,  and  after  that, 
think  of  all  the  mercies  the  good  God  has 
given  us." 

Kate  crept  off  to  bed  like  a  culprit. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LEAVING      HOME. 

"  To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart, 
One  native  charm,  than  all  the  gloss  of  art." 

NOISY  German  family  had  been 
living  at  Redbow,  and  when  they 
left  the  premises,  mother  Primrose 
was  heartily  glad  of  it 
Though  very  respectable  people,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  they  were  coarse  and  boisterous, 
and  even  the  women  and  children  drank  beer 
and  smoked.  Fortunately,  they  had  taken 
good  care  of  the  house,  though  Mrs.  Primrose 
went  round  with  the  women  and  the  men  who 
had  been  sent  to  scour  and  whitewash,  her 
bright  little  eyes  marking  every  spot. 

She  was  heartily  glad  they  were  gone,   I 
11  161 


1 62      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

have  said,  but  more  than  delighted  that  the 
Winfields  were  coming. 

"It  will  be  as  it  was  in  the  old  time,"  she 
said  to  herself,  over  and  over  again;  "there 
will  be  a  lady  in  Redbow." 

Mrs.  Primrose  was  a  little  woman,  and  a 
cheerful  one.  Her  apple-round,  wrinkled  old 
face,  knew  how  to  shine  and  smile,  as  heart- 
somely  as  a  girl  of  sixteen.  She  wore  the 
quaintest  and  daintiest  high-crowned  caps,  as 
stiff  and  white  as  clapping  and  starch  could 
make  them,  and  an  old-fashioned  dimity  'ker- 
chief, in  the  form  of  a  triangle,  over  her  still 
plump  shoulders. 

Father  Primrose  was  a  trifle  slower,  and  a 
trifle  stouter.  It  took  him  longer  to  get  round 
than  it  did  his  wife,  but  then  he  was  ten  years 
older,  and  at  seventy  a  man  don't  like  to  be 
hurried.  Both  of  the  Primroses  were  good- 
natured  easy-going  people,  given  to  pets  and 
petting,  but  they  petted  each  other  most  of 
all.  A  dozen  times  a  day  mother  Primrose 
would  say: 


Leaving  Home.  163 

"Father,  hadn't  you  better  sit  down  and 
rest  a  little  ?"  or,  "  take  a  bite  and  a  sup,  my 
dear?" 

Or,  father  Primrose  woudl  say:- 

"  Mother,  be  kerful  of  your  steps ;  take  it 
easy,  mother,  take  it  easy." 

He  was  saying  that  just  now,  as  mother 
Primrose,  her  cap-strings  flying,  went  over  the 
house  with  her  quick  tripping  walk. 

"Yes,  father,  but  things  must  be  done 
before  night,  and  that  great  hamper  to  be 
unloaded.  Mr.  Winfield  isn't  an  infidel,  if 
we  can  judge  by  the  provisions  he's  sent  for 
his  family.  Laws !  there's  chickens,  and  ham, 
and  tongue,  and  tea  and  sugar,  and  everything 
to  be  put  away,  and  the  table  to  be  set.  I 
suppose  they'll  bring  the  furniter  with  'em; 
the  letter  said  so." 

"  They  can't  git  much  more  furniter  in 
here,  I  should  judge,"  said  father  Primrose, 
leisurely  seating  himself  in  the  dining-room, 
as  mother  Primrose  laid  the  tea-table. 

"Won't  you  have  a  bite  and  a  sup,  father?" 


1 64      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

asked  Mrs.  Primrose,  evening  the  corners 
of  the  cloth. 

"  No,  thankee,  wife,  I  ain't  a  hankering 
arter  vittles  now.  I'm  thinking,  if  old  Miss 
Lotty  was  alive,  she'd  be  glad  to  see  the 
change." 

"  Dear,  dear,  wouldn't  she?"  returned  his 
bustling  wife,  "and  the  sweetest  thing  were 
Miss  Lotty's  niece,  as  I  remember.  Depend 
upon  it,  she's  growed  into  a  full-blown  lady. 
I  can  see  her  now,  dear  little  creeter,  her  ways 
that  demure  and  sober  she  seemed  like  a 
little  woman  then,  for  the  poor  little  thing 
hadn't  no  children  to  play  with.  Miss  Lotty 
was  old-maidish  and  partickler  in  her  ways, 
didn't  know  how  to  do  for  children,  but  the 
sweet  child  didn't  seem  to  need  no  playthings, 
though  I'd  cut  her  out  corn-stalk  popguns, 
myself.  She'd  be  as  happy  with  an  apron 
full  o'  flowers,  or  a  kitten,  or  a  chicken,  as 
some  with  a  houseful  o'  toys.  She  was  allays 
a  happy  creeter,  and  I  guess  she's  a  happy 
creeter  to  this  day." 


Leaving  Home.  165 

"  Well,  well,  we  shall  hev  children  enough 
here  now,  to  suit  you,  dame,"  said  father 
Primrose. 

"Bless  'em,"  murmured  mother  Primrose 
softly. 

"Do  you  hear  that,  mother  Primrose?" 

The  good  woman  dropped  a  saucer. 

"The  old  clock  a  striking?" 

"No,  the  whistle,  the  car-whistle,  a  good 
two  mile  off." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  now — your  ears  allays  was 
quicker  than  mine.  Going  down  to  the  cor- 
ner ?  You'll  have  a  bite  and  a  sup  first,  wont 
you,  father?" 

"Well,  well,  I  don't  care — some  cheese 
and  doughnuts." 

"  And  a  cup  o'  tea,"  said  the  dame,  tripping 
away. 

Take  it  easy,  mother,  take  it  easy,"  the 
.old  man  called  after  her. 

Meantime  the  little  depot  at  Campbell's 
Grove,  as  the  place  was  named,  presented 
a  scene  of  unusual  excitement  A  few  coun- 


1 66      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

try  men  and  maidens,  who  had  come  down 
to  see  the  train  off,  gazed  with  round-eyed 
amazement  at  the  great  bales  and  boxes  that 
quite  filled  the  area  in  the  rear  of  the  little 
wooden  station. 

O  how  fragrant  the  air  was  with  resinous 
gums  and  the  odor  of  the  pine-trees!  The 
birds  twittered  from  all  their  leafy  palaces, 
the  squirrels  ran  up  and  down  the  trunks  of 
great,  sleepy  looking  trees.  Green  and  gold 
beetles  came  out  into  the  warm  sunshine. 

Prince  Charlie  slept  very  sweetly  in  nurse 
Barton's  arms,  Mrs.  Winfield  and  Kate  were 
talking  together.  Phil  stood  apart,  with  his 
thumbs  in  his  vest-pocket,  hugging  an  enor- 
mous fishing-rod.  Phil  was  speculating  on 
the  possibilities  of  trout  for  supper. 

Cad  and  Linda  wandered  about  in  the  cool, 
green  grass,  keeping  the  depot  in  sight,  and 
oh-ing  and  ah-ing  at  every  stick  and  shrub. 
Ross  was  with  his  father,  looking  over  the 
parcels  as  the  train  steamed  off.  Fanny  alone 
seemed  weary  and  dispirited. 


Leaving  Home.  167 

"  O,  Fanny,"  cried  Cad  in  jubilant  tones, 
"  here's  the  sweetest  little  thing !  O,  do  come 
and  see." 

Fanny  hastened  to  see,  shuddered,  and 
ran  back  to  nurse  Barton's  side. 

It  was  a  toad,  but  seen  through  happy 
eyes,  the  little  creature  was  quite  beautiful. 

"  Isn't  it  dfc-licious?"  cried  Cad;  "  is  it  any 
thing  like  India?" 

"O,  no;  the  trees  are  taller;  they  are  full 
of  flowers,  too." 

"  Do  you  see  that  nice  dark  place  there  ?" 
asked  Cad.  "  Only  suppose  uncle  Harry 
should  pop  out  right  upon  us." 

"  And  stay  with  us,"  cried  Linda,  "  at 
Redbow,  and  bring  thousands  and  thousands 
of  rupees." 

"  And  f/-e-gant  shawls  and  dresses  for  you 
and  me." 

"  Yes,  and  diamonds,  and  a  great  white 
elephant,  with  gold  fringe  on  his  saddle." 

"  Did  you  ever  ride  on  an  elephant?"  asked 
Cad. 


1 68      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"A  true  elephant?" 

"True  as  true  can  be;  papa  was  in  the 
saddle,  and  I  was  in  papa's  lap.  It  was  like 
being  on  a  mountain — no,  like  ship-sailing, 
but  I  liked  it." 

"Come,  children,"  called  papa,  as  a  large 
wagon  drove  up,  "we  must  pack  close,  this 
is  our  carriage." 

"Isn't  it  fun?"  cried  Cad,  as  they  drove 
by  the  sweet-scented  hayfields  and  wild-rose 
hedges.  "I  wouldn't  go  back  to  the  city 
again  if  I  could,  would  you,  Fanny?" 

Fanny  looked  down,  and  twisted  her 
parasol. 

"  Never  mind  "Fan,"  said  Ross,  "  we'll  send 
for  some  of  our  stylish  acquaintances  to  come 
out  and  pay  us  a  visit" 

Poor  Fanny!  Ross  had  blundered,  as  boys 
will,  and  the  tears  began  to  flow.  Mrs.  Win- 
field  called  the  attention  of  the  little  party 
away  from  her  to  some  tall  elm-trees,  under 
which  several  cows  were  standing. 


Leaving  Home.  169 

"What  a  picture!"  cried  Ross;  "I'd  like 
to  roll  in  that  grass." 

"  You'll  have  plenty  to  roll  in  before  you 
get  through,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Winfield,  who 
had  been  unwontedly  silent. 

"I  wonder  if  we  shall  know  Redbow?" 
queried  Kate. 

"O  jolly!  there's  a  river!"  shouted  Phil, 
pulling  at  his  fishing-rod.  "  Let  me  get  out, 
can't  I  get  out?" 

"No,  Phil,  we  shall  be  home  soon,"  said 
Mrs.  Winfield,  looking  about  her  with  happy 
smiles.  "I  remember  the  road;  we  have  only 
to  turn  that  corner,  and,  as  the  tourists  say, 
Redbow  will  burst  upon  your  view,  in  all 
its  magnificence." 

They  were  going  up  hill  now.  At  their 
left,  a  little  village  seemed  to  hang  from  the 
cliffs  below,  enveloped  in  a  soft,  golden  haze. 
Grand  old  Redbow,  a  veritable  mountain,  such 
as  the  children  had  never  seen  before,  raised 
its  serene  brow  against  the  deep,  rich  blue  of 
the  heavens.  At  their  right  rose  terrace  after 


1 70      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

terrace  of  well  cultivated  land — a  sinuous 
ribbon  of  a  river  flowing  through"  the  deep 
sea-green  of  distant  fields. 

A  cry  of  delight,  echoed  even  by  Fanny, 
whose  eyes  were  still  wet,  sounded  on  the 
quiet  air. 

"Redbow  is  beautiful!"  exclaimed  Ross, 
standing  up.  "Hurrah!  I'm  glad.  There's  a 
real  lawn  in  front,  shaded  by  such  splendid 
old  trees.  We'll  make  an  Eden  of  it,  father." 

They  had  turned  the  corner,  Redbow  still 
before  them,  and  there  stood  the  gray  old 
house,  with  its  deep  porch,  old-fashioned,  low- 
arched  windows,  its  flowering  vines  and  cool, 
dark  interior.  There  were  flower  beds  every- 
where, and  crocusses  bursting  into  bloom  in 
rows  of  golden  light.  A  side  porch,  a  tower 
at  the  west  corner,  a  great,  solid,  roomy  bay 
window,  made  the  house  exceedingly  attrac- 
tive. 

"It  stands  just  as  I  remember  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Winfield  in  a  low  voice,  "and  the  orchards  are 
as  beautiful  as  ever." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


R  E  D  B  O  W. 

"  The  trees  are  full  of  crimson  buds, 

The  woods  are  full  of  birds, 
And  the  waters  flow  to  music, 

Like  a  tune  with  pleasant  words." 

ELL,  I  never  did !  why  Miss  Alice, 
how  do  you  do?" 

It  was  worth  something,  Kate 
thought,  to  be  welcomed  by  that 
peach-cheeked  old  lady,  who  stood  smiling 
just  inside  the  porch. 

"And  that's  your  baby — your  baby,  that 
used  to  be  a  baby  here,  yourself!  Well,  I 
never  did !  But  welcome  to  Redbow,  sweet 
hearts,  one  and  all.  I've  been  getting  ready 
ever  since  yesterday." 

"  I  don't  see  that  you  are  altered  any,  Mrs. 

171 


172      The  Little  Fojks  of  Redbow. 

Primrose,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  tears  of  joy  in 
her  gentle  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know;  father  he  calls  me 
'sweet  sixteen,'  sometimes.  The  fact  is,  I 
ain't  going  to  grow  any  older'n  I  can  help,  ' 
bless  you,  deary.  Nothin'  troubles  me  but 
the  jints,  and  that's  rheumatiz.  But  come 
right  in.  What  a  lovely  family !  Well,  your 
lines  is  fallen,  in  pleasant  places,  I  should 
think.  And  that's  your  husband,  seein'  to 
things  out  there — what  a  fine,  handsome  gen- 
tleman, to  be  sure.  I  should  say  you  ought 
to  be  a  happy  woman." 

"I  am  a  happy  woman,  Mrs.  Primrose," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield,  following  the  cheerful  old 
lady  into  the  dining-room.  Nurse  Barton 
had  already  stowed  the  baby  on  a  lounge, 
and  the  children  were  helping  each  other  off 
with  their  travelling  gear,  as  Mrs.  Primrose 
called  it. 

That  fine  old  lady  fell  in  love  with  the 
whole  family,  at  once.  Cad  and  Linda  were 
the  sweetest  little  fairies;  Fanny  a  ladyish 


Redbow.  173 

sort  of  child,  and  Kate  was  quite  beyond 
praise. 

Dinner  was  ready,  as  Mrs.  Winfield  had 
expected.  She  knew  Mrs.  Primrose  of  old. 
The  dining-room  was  not  as  spacious  as  the 
one  they  had  been  accustomed  to,  but  it  was 
a  pleasant,  cosy  place,  and  the  crimson  light 
of  a  crackling  wood-fire  made  it  quite  as 
beautiful.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  see  Mrs. 
Primrose,  with  her  handsome  cap  and  genial 
manners,  handing  the  dishes  around,  instead 
of  solemn,  ponderous  John. 

After  dinner,  Kate  and  Fanny  prepared  for 
a  tour  of  inspection  over  the  premises.  The 
wide,  cool  hall  that  divided  the  parlor  from 
the  dining-room  could  not  have  been  pleas- 
anter.  It  had  a  delightful  outlook  on  gar- 
den and  sloping  fields,  and  old  Redbow. 
The  parlor  was  spacious,  extending  the  whole 
length  of  the  house.  It  seemed  rather  shabby 
to  girls  fresh  from  a  home  filled  with  luxuries, 
with  its  faded  carpet  and  plain,  upright  fur- 
niture, placed  primly  against  the  wall. 


1 74      T/te  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"It's  not  one  bit  like  our  dear  old  room, 
though,"  said  Fanny,  choking  a  little. 

"Not  with  this  poor  furniture;  but  remem- 
ber how  much  we  have  brought  with  us,  and 
what  a  home-look  it  will  give.  See  this 
splendid  great  bay-window,  Fanny  dear;  why 
it's  a  little  room  by  itself.  And  there's  the 
great  oval,  mamma  told  us  about — that  grand 
window,  covered  by  that  horrid  curtain;  what 
taste!  O,  Fanny,  this  view  is  perfectly  sub- 
lime! How  can  you  sigh  for  the  city,  after 
that  ?" 

Kate  had  not  exaggerated  in  the  least,  the 
view  was  really  sublime. 

There  had  been  a  shower  the  night  before, 
and  all  the  rocks  glistened  in  brown  and 
amber,  while  the  shelving  snow,  still  melting 
in  the  crevices,  was  oddly  veined  with  green 
and  yellow.  In  the  distance  the  swollen, 
winding  river,  went  goldenly  in  and  out  along 
its  marshy  borders. 

On  the  right,  stretched  a  forest,  its  sombre 
depth  crowned  with  a  younger,  livelier  growth 


Redbow.  175 

of  green,  and  silvered  by  ragged  fringes  of 
mist  slowly  rolling  away. 

To  the  left,  hemmed  in  by  softly  undu- 
lating hills,  and  steaming  with  vapor  that  in 
the  sunlight  took  on  a  thousand  hues,  were 
sloping  fields,  level  meadows,  and  picturesque 
upland  rich  with  pastures,  over  which  faint 
pink  shadows  wavered  and  fell. 

Right  before  them  rose  old  Redbow,  rare 
old  mountain,  full  of  deep  chasms,  that  seemed 
to  have  been  splashed  with  mighty  masses  of 
crimson  and  amber,  down  which  the  arbutus 
trailed;  full  of  ledges  and  gorges,  and  awful 
steps  that  none  but  a  giant  could  mount.  Here 
and  there  dripped  water  white  as  foam,  and  its 
bald  face  seemed  graven  with  a  thousand  mys- 
teries. It  stood  there  like  a  king  of  the  ages, 
hoary  with  the  grand  inscriptions  of  time. 

"Did  you  ever  see  any  thing  like  that?" 
asked  Kate,  drawing  a  deep  breath. 

"It's  all  very  splendid,  of  course,"  said,  or 
rather  sighed  Fanny;  "but  some  way  I  can't 
feel  as  interested  as  I  ought  to.  Well,"  she 


176      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

added,  a  moment  after,  "mother  says  it  is 
possible  to  overcome,  so,  I  suppose  I  must 
overcome  my  regrets  for  the  blessed  old 
home." 

"  Of  course,  we  all  miss  that,  dear ;  still,  I 
don't  believe  but  you  will  be  as  happy  as  a 
kitten  in  a  week.  You  know  how  kittens  fret 
in  strange  places,  but  give  them  plenty  of 
milk,  and  stroke  them  the  right  way,"  she 
added,  laughingly,  smoothing  Fanny's  bright 
hair,  "and  they  get  wonted  to  their  new  quar- 
ters; so  will  you,  dear.  Come,  let's  go  up 
stairs." 

They  ran  up  the  winding  stairway,  which 
was  of  itself  a  picture  of  quaint  oaken  carving, 
and  came  upon  a  wide  landing  that  had  more 
the  appearance  of  a  room  than  a  hall.  It  was 
hung  with  curious  pictures,  whose  frames  were 
brown  with  age.  The  windows  at  either  end 
were  set  deep  in  the  heavy  walls,  leaving  wide, 
low  seats  for  loungers.  In  one  corner  a  stuffed 
white  owl  looked  unutterable  wisdom  from  his 
rustic  perch.  A  pair  of  antlers  curved  grace- 


Redbow.  177 

ful  outlines  over  each  door,  and  the  same 
glorious  outlook  on  old  Redbow  satisfied  the 
beauty-loving  senses. 

" I  feel  just  as  if  I  could  live  here  forever!" 
cried  Kate,  in  rapturous  tones. 

"Mother's  room,"  with  its  neat  furniture 
and  snowy  bed-linen  came  first ;  then  two  cosy 
little  nests,  light,  bright  and  comfortable,  with 
long  wardrobes  of  fragrant  cedar  let  into  the 
walls,  and  cosy  niches,  and  mediaeval  windows 
and  tasteful  surroundings. 

The  rooms  opposite  were  set  aside  for  study, 
guest-chamber  and  nursery,  and  that  was  the 
extent  of  the  household  accommodations.  I 
must  not  forget  the  long,  low,  ceiled  garret, 
running  the  whole  length  of  the  house,  that 
had  never  been  finished,  and  that  for  nearly 
a  century  had  been  the  receptacle  for  broken 
furniture,  old-chests,  and  all  the  rubbish  that, 
accumulating  with  years,  seems  to  some  sen- 
sitive minds  too  precious  to  be  destroyed 
utterly. 

By  the  time  they  had  quite  finished,  Fanny 
12 


1 78      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

had  become  more  reconciled  to  her  new  quar- 
ters, especially  when  Prince  Charlie,  in  one  of 
his  rare  moods  of  fretfulness,  consented  to  be 
soothed  by  no  hand  but  her's. 

"Suppose,"  whispered  Kate,  with  a  grave 
face,  "that  instead  of  losing  our  dear  old  home 
we  had  lost  him." 

Fanny  said  nothing,  but  held  the  beautiful 
child  with  a  firmer  clasp.  * 

"Yes,  or  it  might  have  been  papa.  I  will 
try  and  be  contented." 


CHAPTER  XVIIi. 


CAD'3     NEW     PLAYHOUSE. 

"  Miss  Moppet  had  her  little  house, 

Of  rooms  that  counted  four ; 
Miss  Moppet  swept  her  little  house, 
And  then  she  washed  the  floor." 

S   may    be    supposed,    the    younger 
scions    of  the   Winfield   house,  Cad 
and  Linda,  were  by  no  means  idle, 
as   soon   as    they   had    been   given 
liberty  to  peep  about. 

"Wherever  I  shall  have  my  play-house," 
Cad  cried  in  despair,  "  I'm  sure  I  cannot  tell." 
They  explored  the  barnyard,  and  left  it 
quite  impressed  with  the  idea  that  pig-pens 
were  not  genteel  appurtenances.  Not  so  with 
the  cows,  however,  with  two  of  which  they 
fell  desperately  in  love,  as,  slowly  ruminating 
in  an  adjoining  pasture,  they  looked  with 

179 


180      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

their  calm,  large  eyes,  the  very  ideal  of  milky 
motherhood.  Every  breath  of  air  smelt  of 
wild  roots  and  vines,  sweet  clover,  honey- 
suckles and  hedge-roses,  and  hundreds  of 
homely  little  blooms  of  color.  They  knelt 
down  in  the  tall  grass,  and  let  its  cool  thin 
waves  sweep  over  their  faces,  they  gathered 
armfuls  of  curious  blossoms,  and  then  threw 
them  aside  for  new  wonders. 

At  last  they  found  their  way  into  the  empty 
barn,  still  redolent  of  last  year's  treasures.  A 
wonderful  white  hen  resented  their  boisterous 
incoming,  while  her  brood  of  downy  chicks 
sped  for  shelter  under  her  feather-roof,  at  the 
sound. 

"Don't  it  smell  delicious  here?"  said  Linda, 
"and  how  slippery  the  floor  is!  Let's  slide." 

Sliding  proved  to  be  hard  work.  It  was 
pleasanter  to  stand  where  the  long,  slant  sun- 
beams goldened  the  great  space  with  tiny 
motes,  resplendent  as  diamonds,  swimming 
in  their  light,  and  watch  the  strange  reflection 
on  each  other's  face. 


Cad's  New  Playhouse.  181 

Presently  they  espied  a  staircase. 

"  I  wonder  what  there  is  up  there  ?"  queried 
Linda. 

"  Let's  go  and  see." 

"  No ;"  Linda  shrank  away.  "  I'm  afraid." 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  whispered  the  child,  turn- 
ing her  little  brown  face  aside. 

"None  but  wicked  people  ever  need  to  be 
afraid,"  said  Cad,  solemnly;  "you  have  heard 
me  say  that  repeatedly  to  Petkin.  Petkin  goes 
everywhere  in  the  dark." 

"Petkin  hasn't  got  eyes;  and  besides,  you 
go  with  her,"  retorted  matter-of-fact  Linda. 

"  It's  no  use  for  you  to  say  that  Petkin's  got 
no  eyes,"  said  Linda,  seating  herself  on  the 
third  step ;  "  because  she  always  sees  with  my 
eyes ;  and  besides,  I  can  go  with  you  up  these 
stairs;  now  what  do  you  say?  Your  Ayah, 
or  whatever  she  called  herself,  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  telling  you  stories  about  Vishnu 
and  the  bogies;  and  now  you're  in  a  Christian 
family,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  be  afraid 


1 82      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

of  them.  Don't  you  know  the  dear  Lord,  who 
loves  little  children,  is  above  all,  and  watches 
every  step  you  take?  Ol  my  goodness,  there's 
an  awful  big  spider  coming  right  down  on  my 
head!"  and  Cad's  moralizing  was  thrown  to 
the  winds  until  both  had  reached  the  door, 
and  stood  panting  and  laughing. 

Ca'd  was  quite  ashamed  of  her  fright  in 
a  moment,  however,  and  with  a  long  stick 
bravely  attacked  his  spidership,  and  then  as 
bravely  mounted  the  stairs. 

"O,  Linda,"  she  cried,  "come  up;  I  see  the 
sun  through  the  keyhole.  You  needn't  be  a 
bit  afraid,  its  light  and  pleasant  here." 

Linda  ran  up,  still  trembling  a  little.  It 
was  light  and  pleasant,  now  that  Cad  held 
the  door  open. 

"A  real  room — a  charming  room,  with  a 
chair,  and  a  little  old  lounge,  and  a  table,  and 
a  bit  of  rag-carpet — and — O,  Linda — a  stove ! 
Won't  we  be  made  up  now  for  housekeep- 
ing? I'll  ask  mamma  to  let  me  bring  all 
my  playthings  here.  Won't  the  children  be 


Cad's  New  Playhouse.  183 

delighted?  Petkin  will  go  wild.  It's  even 
better  than  the  old  nursery,  I  think,  because 
we  can  fix  up  and  contrive  things,  and  have  it 
all  our  own  way.  You  see,  Fanny  won't  be 
here  to  scold,  or  Kate  to  look  so  womanish, 
as  if  we  were  little  children ;  and  O,  Linda, 
what  washes  we  will  get  out !  My  things  will 
furnish  sweetly,  and  Ross  can  make  us  some 
shelves.  O,  dear,  dear  me,  I  am  so  happy! 
give  me  one  good  hug,  Linda ;  now  ain't  you 
glad  we  came?" 

Linda  confessed  she  was,  with  a  little  sigh  ' 
of    content,    as   she   seated    herself   on    the 
lounge — "  Only,"  she  added,  "  I  wish  we  could 
keep  it  a  secret." 

"Why?" 

"  Phil  will  plague  us." 

"  Perhaps  we  haven't  been  kind  enough  to 
Phil,"  said  philosophic  Cad,  who  in  her  pre- 
sent mood  could  have  forgiven  the  whole 
world.  "When  he  comes  in  sight,  you 
know,  we  stop  play,  as  if  he  was  a  mon- 
ster. Mamma  says  Phil  is  our  cross,  and 


1 84      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

you  know  we  must  bear  crosses  bravely. 
Besides,  I  mean  to  just  ask  him  to  help  us 
do  something  whenever  he  comes,  and  that'll 
send  him  off!  And  then  Ross  is  here,  and 
Phil  isn't  half  so  rude  when  he  is  round. 
Wasn't  it  awful,  though,  when  he  hung  Pet- 
kin?  The  life  was  almost  gone  out  of  her 
precious  body.  But  I  guess  he's  got  a  good 
heart — papa  says  so." 

A  voice  was  heard  outside,  shouting  their 
names. 

"It  is  Ross!"  cried  Cad.  "Ross,  Ross! 
come  up  here,  we're  housekeeping." 

"  You  shouldn't  stay  so  long,"  said  Ross, 
stopping;  "mamma  has  been  worried  about 
you.  How  did  we  know  but  you  had  got 
into  the  river." 

"River!"  echoed  Cad,  contemptuously. 

"  Come  down,  quick,"  said  Ross ;  "  I'm  sent 
to  take  you  home." 

So  the  girls  shut  up  the  room  and  groped 
their  way  down  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OUT      IN      THE      FARM-YARD. 

"  Green  fields  and  silent  glens,  we  come 
To  spend  this  bright  spring  day  with  you." 

HE  bustle  and  confusion  of  "  fixing 
things"  were  nearly  over.  Ross's 
special  pride,  the  bright  red  and 
gold  easy-chair  stood  in  the  parlor; 
tables  and  globes  were  ranged  in  the  old 
fashion.  Occupying  a  niche,  into  which  they 
fitted  as  cosily  as  if  it  had  been  made  for 
them,  a  case  of  books,  all  the  old  favorites, 
stood  on  one  side  of  the  great  oval  window. 
Beneath  it  papa's  favorite  writing-desk  com- 
fortably reposed.  Opposite  the  book-case 
stood  the  piano,  flanked  by  an  array  of  music 
racks.  On  a  line  with  that  the  bay-window  let 


1 86      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

in  the  glory  of  hill  and  dale,  and  the  hand- 
some old-fashioned  whatnot  fitted  one  corner; 
these,  with  hossacks,  chintz  covered  lounges 
filled  with  soft  cushions,  and  straight-backed 
chairs,  alternating  with  more  modern  seats, 
completed  the  room.  The  pictures  which 
Mr.  Winfield  had  allowed  himself  to  bring 
had  not  yet  been  hung. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  the  blazing 
fire  of  hickory-wood,  that  set  crimson  sprites 
at  work  in  every  part  of  the  room,  or  the 
grave  old  puss,  who  had  finally  consented  to 
domesticate  herself  on  the  rug  in  front  of  the 
flaming  hearth. 

"You've  taken  the  carpet  up!"  exclaimed 
Fanny,  in  a  voice  full  of  consternation,  when 
she  first  entered  the  room. 

"It  was  so   faded!"  said  Kate. 

"  Papa  means  to  have  the  floor  painted 
and  varnished,  and  then  we  shall  put  all 
the  rirgs  down,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"What  does  the  room  want?"  queried 
Fanny,  looking  about 


Out  in  the  Farm-Yard.          187 

"Occupation,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  with  a 
bright  smile.  "Wait  a  day  or  two,  and  I'll 
unfold  my  plan.  Something  was  just  whis- 
pered to  me." 

"  It's  mamma's  little  spirit-bird,"  whispered 
Cad,  to  Linda;  "when  mamma  thinks  nice 
things  that  nobody  else  would  have  dreamed 
of,  she  always  says  a  little  bird  told  her,  and 
I  call  it  her  spirit-bird." 

Cad  soon  broached  the  subject  of  the 
barn  playhouse,  and  her  mother  decided  to 
grant  her  wish,  if  she  found  the  place  a  good 
one. 

"  I  think  it  very-  likely  I  shall,"  she  said ; 
"particularly  in  summer." 

Phil  had  started  for  the  river,  under  a  strict 
charge  to  keep  himself  out  of  it. 

Ross  was  waiting  with  all  the  patience  he 
could  muster,  for  his  father  to  get  rested,  tnat 
he  might  go  over  the  farm  with  him,  under 
Mrs.  Primrose's  guidance.  The  strong,  red- 
armed  girl,  who  had  come  to  do  the  rough 
work,  was  on  her  way  to  milk  the  cow,  and 


1 88      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

that  novel  sight  was  participated  in  by  all 
the  little  folks.  % 

Even  Fanny  confessed  herself  interested 
in  the  operation,  particularly  as  the  strong 
girl  proved  incompetent,  and  mother  Primrose 
took  her  place  on  the  milking-stool.  How 
the  snowy  streams  came  down,  plashing  the 
sides  of  the  pan  with  great,  white,  foamy 
blotches  at  first,  and  then  rounding  up  and 
growing  deeper  and  deeper  till  the  large  pan 
was  almost  full. 

Linda  and  Cad  kept  the  pretty  brown 
creature  quiet  with  handfuls  of  sweet  dried 
grass. 

It  was  a  picture  full  of  beauty,  softness  and 
quiet  content. 

Daisy  stood  in  a  small  enclosure,  fragrant 
with  scented  clover  flowers.  All  down  the 
sides  of  old  Redbow  streamed  rivers  of  color 
— red,  green,  purple  and  violet. 

The  sky  showed  here  and  there  through 
clouds  of  drifting  gold,  a  blue  so  intense  that 
it  was  almost  dazzling. 


Out  in  the  Farm-Yard.          189 

Ross  threw  himself  down  in  a  little  hollow, 
covered  with  white  and  purple  wild-flowers. 
"God  made  the  country,  didn't  he,  mother?" 
he  said,  drawing  a  breath,  heart-deep  with 
content — "and  man  the  town.  I  rather  think 
I  prefer  God's  work." 

"I  hope  we  all  do,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield, 
softly.  She  seldom  moralized,  but  there  were 
sermons  in  her  eyes,  in  her  loving  smiles, 
in  her  charming  youthfulness,  when  among 
children. 

"O,  mamma,  and  these  are  all  God's  little 
flowers,  and  this  is  His  grass,  and  Redbow  is 
His  mountain,"  said  Cad,  reverently. 

"Yes,  love,  every  thing  belongs  to  Him." 

"Even  us  little  girls;"  then  with  a  happy 
smile,  "even  my  dearest  Petkin;  Ol  isn't  it 
beautiful !" 

Cad  would  emphasize. 

Mother  Primrose  gave  the  pail  of  rich,  foam- 
ing milk  to  the  strong  girl,  and  then  took 
Cad  and  Linda  to  show  them  her  vegetable 
patch.  There  every  thing  was  "uncommon 


1 90      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

forrerd,"  as  she  said.  Tiny  beets  were  push- 
ing their  way  into  the  light,  veined  with  crim- 
son from  stalk  to  tip. 

"There  never  was  such  a  hand  for  early 
sarce  as  my  old  man,  and  he  allers  manages 
to  have  it  afore  anybody  else.  Jest  as  soon 
as  they  git  ripe  enough,  I'll  send  you  over 
a  good  mess  of  'em." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

•         MOTH  ER    PRIMROSE    AND    CROQUETj 

"  0,  dear  is  my  cottage,  unclouded  by  sorrow, 
And  sweet  is  the  bower  my  Emeline  wove ; 
Ah,  nought  from  the  gay  or  the  wealthy  I'd  borrow 
While  blest  with  the  smile  of  contentment  and  love." 

HERE   was   one    drawback    to    the 
felicity  of  the  little  folks  of  Redbow. 
Mr.  Winfield's  new  pursuit  kept  him 
chained  to  the  city  during  all  the 
week.     He  came  out  late  on   Saturday  after- 
noon, but  was  obliged  to  return  at  an  early 
hour  on  Monday  morning. 

It  seemed  very  sad,  at  first,  to  miss  his 
daily  presence;  it  cast  a  heavy  shadow  over 
the  little  household,  and  Mrs.  Winfield  set 
her  wits  at  work  to  devise  some  remedy  for 
their  temporary  home-sickness. 

J9I 


192      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"In  order  that  papa's  absence  may  seem 
less  painful  to  us  all,"  she  said,  one  day,  "let 
us  each  one  give  him  some  little  memento  of 
the  week — something  simple,  novel  or  useful, 
or  even  merely  ornamental,  that  it  may  re- 
mind him  of  the  busy  little  fingers  planning 
for  him  while  he  is  in  the  city." 

Instantly  every  sad  face  brightened,  as  if 
by  magic. 

"Why,  mamma,  that's  perfectly  elegant!" 
exclaimed  Cad,  drawing  out  the  word  to  its 
utmost  length.  "  I  do  think  your  little  spirit- 
bird  has  been  flying  about  this  morning." 

"Now  what  shall  we  make?" 

"  My  province  is  only  to  suggest,"  said  Mrs. 
Winfield,  smilingly,  "yours  to  execute.  Les- 
sons first,  little  ones.  Here  is  Ross,  ready 
for  you." 

Ross  seated  himself  with  an  unconscious 
assumption  of  dignity,  at  his  father's  desk. 

"O  dear,"  mourned  Linda,  "I  can't  find 
my  grammar.  I  wish  I  never  could  find  it, 
almost — it's  an  awful  study  anyhow." 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     193 

"  You  left  it  on  the  hay,  and  it's  been  rain- 
ing," said  Cad,  with  portentous  visage.  Phil 
ran  off  to  recover  the  book,  and  brought  in 
a  mass  of  pulp  on  the  end  of  his  fishing-rod. 

"  Grammar-hash !"  he  cried  so  exultingly, 
that  poor  little  Linda  burst  into  tears. 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  girl,  to  cry  for  every- 
thing," said  Phil,  indignantly. 

"I've  got  plenty  of  money,"  Linda  said 
defiantly,  after  a  little  pause.  "I  can  buy 
another." 

"It  isn't  the  money  we  care  about,  dear, 
it's  the  careless  habit,"  said  her  aunt  quietly. 

"I  used  to  be  just  so  when  I  was  little," 
Cad  gravely  rejoined,  shaking  her  head,  and 
then  reproof  was  impossible.  Mrs.  Winfield 
saw  something  out  of  the  window,  and  drew 
her  lips  in  tightly. 

"  Never  mind,  Linda,"  she  murmured,  draw- 
ing the  weeping  child  closer;  "sometime  you 
and  I  will  have  a  long,  comfortable  talk  about 
this  matter.  You'll  be  careful  by  and  by,  after 
a  little  training;"  so  she  kissed  the  tears  from 
13 


1 94      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Linda's  lashes,  and  sent  her  back  to  her  tasks 
encouraged. 

Ross  made  a  capital  teacher,  while  Mrs. 
Winfield  busied  herself  about  the  house,  or 
with  good  Mrs.  Primrose  and  the  stout  girl 
in  the  kitchen.  He  had  some  trouble  with 
Phil,  whose  genius  for  caricature  kept  the 
girls  laughing,  and  the  mark-book  showed 
grievous  strokes  against  that  young  gentle- 
man ;  but  Ross  was  patient,  and  patience  and 
faith  conquer  even  boys. 

"What  shall  we  make  for  papa?"  asked 
Cad,  when  lessons  were  over,  as  she  waylaid 
Fanny,  who  was  intent  on  braided  bib  for 
Prince  Charlie.  "Do  tell  me;  I  can't  think 
of  a  thing." 

"Don't  bother  me  now,  Cad,"  said  Fanny 
impulsively. 

"You're  not  a  sunshine  sister,  a  bit,"  said 
Cad;  "you  ain't  half  moonlight.  I  never 
saw—" 

"O,  miss,"  said  nurse  Barton,  coming  in, 
"will  you  please  read  me  my  letter?" 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     195 

''When  did  it  come?"  asked  Cad,  taking 
the  missive. 

"Just  now,  miss.  The  man  in  the  green 
cart  brought  it." 

"Is  it  from  London?" 

"Yes,  miss,  from  my  sister;  and  I'm  so 
hanxious." 

"  Come  up-stairs,  Barton." 

Cad  ensconced  herself  comfortably.  It 
proved  to  be  a  letter  from  Barton's  youngest 
sister,  who  was  in  raptures  because  somebody 
had  found  her  a  place  of  service  in  the  family 
of  a  live  lord. 

"I  never  expected  any  of  us  would  go  that 
'igh,"  said  nurse,  fervently. 

"Do  you  call  it  high?"  asked  Cad. 

"Miss,  its  a  honor  such  as  never  was," 
replied  Barton,  with  dignity.  "Why,  she's 
among  the  nobility.  You  should  see  a  gentle- 
man as  is  a  lord,"  she  added,  her  voice  sink- 
ing, "there's  nothing  like  it  in  this  country." 

"Nothing  like  it  in  this  country,  when  you 
have  seen  MY  FATHER!"  said  Cad,  with  rising 


196      The  Lit  Lie  Folks  of  Redbow. 

ire.  "I  don't  believe  there's  a  man  in  the 
whole  of  England  could  compare  with  him." 

Barton  grew  humble  instantly. 

"I  s'pose  it's  the  way  we're  brought  up, 
miss,"  she  said  apologetically. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  lord?" 

"  Well,  no,  miss ;  I'm  free  to  confess  I  never 
have,  but  my  William  did.  Even  their  foot- 
men are  all  covered  with  gold  lace.  But,  miss 
would  you  write  a  line  or  two  for  me?" 

Cad  promised,  and  went  her  way.  Linda 
met  her  at  the  door. 

"I  know!"    she  cried,  clapping  her  hands. 

"What?" 

"  Some  of  papa's  nicest  handkerchiefs  were 
put  in  one  of  my  boxes  by  mistake.  You 
work  his  name  in  one  with  red,  and  I'll  work 
one  in  blue." 

"O,  for  papa!"  said  Cad,"  that  will  be 
elegant.  Let's  go  to  work,  quick.  It's  only 
three  days  to  Saturday.  And,  Linda,"  added 
Cad,  with  a  serious  face,  "we  must  teach 
Barton  her  letters." 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     197 

Mrs.  Winfield  approved  of  the  room  over 
the  barn.  All  the  playthings  had  been  un- 
packed and  put  in  place.  Every  part  of  the 
sunny,  homely  room  had  been  thoroughly 
cleaned.  Cotton  curtains  hung  at  the  win- 
dows, and  Cad  was  in  her  glory.  The  doll's 
four-poster  and  various  cribs  were  snugly 
domiciled.  Rugs  made  of.  gay  colored  rags 
contrasted  finely  with  the  freshly  scoured 
boards,  and  over  all  the  sunshine  poured  in 
unstinted  measure. 

Cad  and  Linda  had  their  respective  rock- 
ing chairs  and  tables.  Near  each  of  the  little 
girls  sat  a  basket,  filled  with  useful  imple- 
ments; scissors,  cottons,  wools  in  bright  colors, 
and  every  thing  necessary  for  the  little  busy 
fingers,  while  fashioning  the  varied  outfits 
for  their  numerous  doll  children. 

Cad's  tea  and  dinner-sets  were  neatly  ranged 
on  appropriate  shelves.  Ross  had  fitted  an 
old  cabinet  with  glass  doors.  This  had  been 
filled  from  day  to  day  with  curiosities,  found 
in  the  woods  or  down  by  the  river;  veined 


198      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

pebbles,  strange  formations  of  rock.  This 
the  girls  looked  over,  dusted  and  arranged, 
and  catalogued  all  the  new  ones  weekly. 

"It  was  just  like  real  housekeeping,"  Cad 
said  proudly,  and  the  busy  little  bee  would 
have  set  up  an  independent  life,  if  the  higher 
powers  had  allowed  her  to. 

It  was  pleasant  to  see  her  making  tea  with 
a  "truly  "fire  in  the  stove,  while  Linda  was 
sweeping  away  imaginary  dirt. 

Then  after  the  dishes  were  washed  the  two 
girls  sat  down  at  the  window,  to  work  a 
monogram  in  the  handkerchiefs  that  were 
to  be  presented  as  love-tokens  to  papa. 

How  their  little  tongues  flew!  Cad,  ab- 
sorbed in  Petkin's  welfare,  touched  the  tip  of 
the  cradle-rocker  now  and  then,  to  keep  her 
asleep,  the  wide  open  blue  eyes  never  for  a 
moment  dispelling  the  sweet  illusion  that  the 
"baby"  was  enjoying  a  refreshing  slumber. 

Suddenly  Linda  looked  up. 

"  There's  Fanny  coming  here,  ever  so  fast. 
What  can  she  want?" 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     199 

"May-be  papa  has  come  home,"  Cad  res- 
ponded. 

Fanny  made  her  appearance,  breathless. 

"  Your  servant,  ladies,"  she  said,  dropping 
a  courtesy  after  Barton's  fashion;  "we  are 
to  go  to  mother  Primrose's  to  take  tea." 

"  O,  then  she's  got  something  nice,"  cried 
Cad;  "the  very  first  in  a  hot-bed;  she  told 
me  when  they  were  ripe  we  should  all  come; 
won't  it  be  delicious?  Must  we  come  now?" 

"  No,  not  till  three,  it's  not  two  yet.  You 
are  only  to  put  on  white  aprons,  these  dresses 
will  do.  When  it's  time,  I'll  ring  the  dinner- 
bell." 

"  Dear  me,  I  must  have  a  clock,"  said  Cad. 

"  There's  an  old  clock  in  the  garret,"  said 
Fanny,  turning  on  the  threshold. 

"  O,  Fanny,  do  you  think  it  would  go?" 

"  Yes — every  time  you  shake  it,"  laughed 
Fanny. 

"I'll  ask  mamma  to  let  me  have  it." 

"  You  had  better  go  rummaging  in  the 
garret,"  Fanny  added;  "there's  no  end  of 


2OO      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

old-fashioned  lumber  up  there,  enough  to 
furnish  half-a-dozen  such  rooms  as  this." 

Cad's  face  grew  radiant.  Stores  of  won- 
derful plenishing  came  up  before  her  vision. 
She  caught  her  breath  for  very  delight. 

"  It  will  be  a  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe 
work,  won't  it,  Linda;  what  do  you  suppose 
we  shall  find?" 

"  Herbs  and  newspapers,  and  mouldy  old 
clothes,"  cried  Fanny  from  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  "  When  you  hear  the  bell  ring,  chil- 
dren, mind  and  come,"  she  added. 

"  She  always  calls  us  children,"  said  Cad, 
trying  to  frown.  "  I  should  think  she  might, 
see  we  are  grown  ladies,  when  she  looks  at 
our  families." 

"  And  the  cooking  stove,"  suggested  Linda. 

"  Fanny  always  was  unjust,"  was  Cad's 
rejoinder. 

Just  then  the  bell  rang,  and  they  put  up 
work  hurriedly. 

Linda  overturned  the  cradle,  but  was  in 
such  haste  that  she  left  Petkin  lying  on  its 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     201 

nose,  saying  nothing  to  Cad,  who  was  half- 
way down  stairs.  Besides  that  she  forgot 
to  lock  the  door — worse,  she  left  it  open  an 
inch  or  so,  much  against  her  conscience. 

In  a  trice,  clean  aprons  and  bright  ribbons 
made  the  little  folks  presentable,  and  nurse 
Barton  drew  the  carriage  as  far  as  the  cot- 
tage porch,  where,  under  the  Virginia  creeper, 
stood  mother  Primrose.  Her  snow-white  cap, 
kerchief  and  apron,  made  her  a  picture  amid 
the  cool  green  vines  and  scarlet  flowers. 

A  large,  low-ceiled  room  first  met  the  view, 
in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  folded  screen. 
An  immense  fire-place,  filled  with  branches  of 
spruce,  occupied  almost  the  entire  end  of  the 
apartment.  In  front  of  this  a  huge  hearth, 
tiled  in  blue  and  white,  that  told  the  story  of 
Joseph  and  his  brethren.  Rush-bottomed 
chairs,  two  antique  chests  of  drawers,  a  spa- 
cious round  table,  and  an  oaken  settle,  made 
up  the  inventory  of  the  simple  furniture. 

Cad  sniffed  strawberries.  "How  sweet  it 
does  smell!"  she  whispered  to  Linda. 


2O2      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

So  it  did.  A  cleaner  soul  than  mother 
Primrose  never  lived  within  the  shadow  of  old 
Redbow.  Every  pane  of  glass  in  the  little 
diamond-patterned  lattice  shone  like  a  newly 
cut  diamond. 

"How  beautifully  white  your  floor  is!"  said 
Kate,  admiringly. 

"Two  scrubbings  a  week,  dear,  for  thirty 
years,"  said  the  old  lady,  significantly. 

"Our   floor    must    be   scrubbed    twice   a 
week,"  said  Cad,  confidentially,  to  Linda. 

Adjoining  this  living-room,  or  parlor,  as 
she  liked  to  call  it  in  the  summer  time,  was 
the  cosiest  of  cosy  little  kitchens,  where  a 
small  oven  did  duty  once  a  week.  The  third 
room  on  the  ground  floor  held  a  spotless  bed, 
hung  with  dimity  curtains,  besides  a  few  long 
cherished  treasures  in  the  form  of  sea-shells, 
coral  branches,  books,  and  a  mighty  baize- 
covered  Bible,  with  iron  clasps. 

Outside,  the  fine  lawn,  stretching  to  the 
meadows  that  nestled  at  Redbow's  foot,  and 
covered  with  short,  thick  grass,  slept  perpe- 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     203 

tually  under  the  shadow  of  great  branching 
oaks  full  two  hundred  years  old. 

"  O,  what  a  lovely  place  for  croquet !"  cried 
Kate. 

"Cro-what?"  said  a  positive  and  somewhat 
sharp  voice,  and  old  father  Primrose  came 
round  the  corner. 

Kate  explained  the  then  new  game. 

"Odds  ends!"  said  father  Primrose;  "that's 
a  new  notion  of  the  city  folks,  isn't  it  ?  They 
don't  have  enow  to  do,  so  they  fangle  up  things 
and  put  queer  names  to  'em.  Well,  well,  any- 
thing to  please  the  youngsters.  I  was  young 
myself  once,  though  I  had  to  hoe,  instead  of 
crow — what  d'ye  call  it?  But  then  I  was 
allays  jolly;  wasn't  I,  old  lady?" 

"That's  just  so,"  laughed  mother  Primrose, 
brightly;  "father  allays  was  jolly.  It  used  to 
worry  the  church-folks  a  good  deal;  but  says 
I,  when  Amos  laughs,  he  ain't  a  scolding." 

"  Vicy  versy,  old  lady,"  put  in  father  Prim- 
rose. 

"  No,  it  aint  vicy,  for  he's  allays  laughing, 


204      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

and  laughing  keeps  folks  young,"  she  added 
wisely.  "  But  deary  me,  there's  the  clock 
strikin'  four,  and  tea  to  be  got!" 

"  Take  it  easy,  mother,  take  it  easy,"  cried 
her  careful  help-meet 

"That  there  brother  o'  yourn  is  a  master 
hand  for  farming,"  said  the  old  man  to  Kate, 
who  stood  near  him.  "There  ain't  a  many  as 
I  can  say  is  born  to  it;  some  of  the  farmers  as 
I  know  is  a  thriftless  lot  enough,  jest  livin 
from  hand  to  mouth.  I  didn't  begin  till  late, 
myself,  but  I  allays  had  a  genus  for  it.  You 
see  I  was  Miss  Lotty's  head-man,  in  her  time, 
and  hed  to  see  to  too  many  things  to  give  my 
own  likings  a  lift;  but  when  she  was  took,  and 
left  the  wife  and  me  this  bit  cottage  and  the 
land  hereabouts,  God  bless  her,  I  found,  forty 
odd  year  though  I  were,  that  I  had  a  takin  to 
the  ground,  which  made  it  nateral  as  life  for 
me  to  coax  things  outen  it.  You  see  I  never 
considered  that  I  was  too  old  to  larn,  and 
consequence  is,  I've  got  some  idees  on  the 
subject,  right  fresh  out  o'  trees  and  things, 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     205 

that  helps  me  a  good  deal,  and  helps  other 
folks,  too,  I  reckon.  And  so  I  and  that 
brother  o'  yourn  has  hed  some  little  chats 
together  now  and  then,  and  I  ken  see  he's 
got  the  root  o'  the  matter  in  him.  He'll 
make  that  place  o'  yours  blossom  like  the 
rose,  when  he  gits  experience.  It's  a  good 
sight  better  to  work  things  yourself,  than  go 
shares;  and  there's  money  in  Redbow  acres, 
I  tell  him.  He's  a  wise  one  for  a  young  one, 
he  is." 

Kate    flushed   with    delight  to   hear    her 
brother  so  praised. 

"  It  don't  do  no  hurt  for  a  farmer  to  be  col- 
lege-larned  either;  a  gentleman  farmer,  as  I 
look  at  it,  is  a  man  that  no  dirt  wont  harm. 
Laming  is  like  the  big  middle  wheel  of  a 
machine,  it  sets  all  the  little  wheels  to  going." 

Fanny  moved  about,  knitting  on  the  little 
bib  as  she  walked.  She  was  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  Redbow  was  a  magnificent 
mountain,  as  she  watched  the  gold  and  dun 
shadows  roll  down  its  mighty  sides,  while 


206      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  shifting  clouds  sailed  like  white  majestic 
ships  overhead. 

It  was  so  calmly  grand.  The  birds  flew 
in  and  out  of  its  hollows ;  warm  mosses  slept 
up  there  in  the  darkling  crevices ;  the  rain 
made  mimic  rivers  on  its  ledges,  that  tum- 
bled over  in  miniature  waterfalls.  Trees 
snuggled  in  many  a  cleft  of  the  rock ;  the 
cups  of  tiny  flowers  caught  dew  drops  up 
there;  the  winds  told  their  hollow  secrets  in 
its  caves.  Thunder  had  shaken  the  solid 
ground  beneath  it,  lightning  had  riven  many 
a  noble  oak;  old  Redbow  laughed  at  both. 
There  it  stood,  defying  the  storm,  and  gath- 
ering worlds  of  wealth  in  the  sunshine. 

"What  can  be  inside?"  thought  Fanny. 

Ross  and  Phil  came  over  at  tea-time. 

"  I  guess — there's  something — " 

"Phil,  hold  your  tongue!"  shouted  Ross. 

"What  is  it?"  urged  Fanny. 

"  I'd  tell  for  a  sixpence.  Ross  thinks  he's 
some,"  said  Phil,  wrathfully — and  just  then 
came  a  call  to  tea,  and  such  a  tea !  Cream  as 


Mother  Primrose  and  Croquet.     207 

yellow  as  gold,  in  the  sweetest,  quaintest  little 
silver  pitcher,  and  peaches  as  luscious  as  they 
could  be  for  last  year's  fruit,  rimmed  with 
scarlet.  Honey  like  amber,  biscuits  like  snow- 
flakes  for  lightness  and  whiteness;  what  a 
feast  it  was  !  Mother  Primrose  said  to  her- 
self that  she  had  never  seen  such  pretty 
behavior  and  delicate  manners  in  little  folks 
before.  And  then  the  strawberries  preserves! 

After  tea,  when  they  were  all  on  the  lawn, 
Phil  and  Ross  brought  from  some  place  of 
hiding  a  long  box,  and  lo!  to  their  delighted 
eyes  displayed  a  set  of  croquet. 

Cries  of  delight,  and  "Where  did  you  get 
it?"  sounded  on  all  sides. 

"Papa  was  in  the  secret,"  said  Ross.  "We 
found  a  little  old  carpenter  down  by  the 
river — old  Joe  Bangs — he's  got  a  little  mill 
there,  and  he  made  it  to  order." 

Mrs.  Primrose  appeared  at  the  door,  towel 
in  hand. 

"Take  it  easy,  mother,  take  it  easy,"  said 
father  Primrose. 


208      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"What  is  that  thing?"  queried  Mrs.  Prim- 
rose, peering  at  ball  and  mallet. 

"That's  crochay,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"Croquet,"  spoke  up  Fanny. 

"Some  sort  of  O  K,"  laughed  farmer  Prim- 
rose. 

For  an  hour  the  old  lawn  was  alive  with 
laughter  and  shouting,  and  running,  and  when 
the  happy  little  folks  left  their  game,  Ross 
and  Fanny  were  the  victors. 

"I  say,"  said  Cad,  slyly  pulling  at  her 
sister's  sleeve,  "  there's  no  fun  in  the  country." 

"It's  good  enough  for  croquet,"  was  miss 
Fanny's  stately  reply. 

Nurse  was  to  come  for  them,  so  the  little 
folks  sat  on  the  old  porch  and  told  stories, 
and  guessed  conundrums,  till  the  rising  moon 
silvered  the  stately  crown  of  Redbow. 

Mother  Primrose  talked  of  dear  little  miss 
Alice,  and  then  they  went  inside  the  little 
cottage,  beautiful  with  the  sweet  glamour  of 
cleanliness,  and  made  ready  for  home. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

FATHER'S     SURPRISE. 

"In  Eastern  lands  they  talk  in  flowers, 

They  tell  in  a  garland  their  lives  and  cares, 
Each  blossom  that  blooms  in  their  garden  bowers, 
On  its  leaves  a  mystical  language  bears." 

F  ye'll   let   me,  I'll   take   the   little 
ladies  down." 

So  said  the.  sturdy  farmer,  who 
was  to  go  for  Mr.  Winfield  down 
to  Campbell's  Station. 

"  O,  mother,  say  yes !"  and  with  so  many 
anxious  eyes  looking  into  hers,  mother  said 
Yes,  and  away  they  scampered  after  wraps. 

Would  Phil  go?  No,  he  was  for  trout 
fishing. 

"  Who  wants  to  go  with  girls,"  he  muttered 
to  himself,  as  he  turned  away. 


14 


209 


2 1  o      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Into  the  old  creaking  wagon,  guiltless  of 
paint,  they  scrambled,  and  the  two  powerful 
farm-horses  started. 

"It  was  so  much  better,"  Cad  said,  "to  sit 
and  laugh  and  talk,  and  do  just  as  they  pleased, 
and  have  no  prim  coachman,  with  funeral 
dignity,  asking  which  way  he  should  go  now." 

The  farmer  was  almost  as  jolly  as  father 
Primrose,  and  when  they  found  themselves 
at  the  depot  too  early  for  the  train,  he 
showed  them  where  they  might  find  black- 
berries in  the  fall,  and  led  them  to  a  patch 
of  ferns  that  made  Kate's  eyes  dance. 

When  the  train  did  come,  one  would  have 
thought  the  handsome  man,  surrounded  by 
the  little  ladies,  had  just  returned  from  a  tour 
in  Europe,  they  made  such  a  time  over  him. 

When  they  drove  up  to  the  porch  in  the 
sweet  sunset  glow,  all  Redbow  seemed  to 
welcome  them.  Prince  Charlie  jumped  into 
his  father's  arms  with  a  wild  whoop — Ross 
called  it.  There  were  exclamations  of  de- 
light, and  kisses  all  round,  but  when  papa 


Father's  Surprise.  211 

was  allowed  to  enter  the  family  sitting-room, 
then  indeed  there  was  a  genuine  surprise. 

Mr.  Winfield  stood  rooted  upon  the  thresh- 
old; then  he  went  forward,  and  in  the  midst* 
of  the   shouts   of  his   little  folks,  stood   still 
again. 

"We  all  helped,  didn't  we?"  cried  Cad. 
"  It  took  us  such  a  time  !" 

"And  we  made  a  fernery  of  the  aquarium," 
said  Kate;  "the  poor  little  fishes  would  die." 

"  Well,  /  confess,  you  have  surprised  and 
delighted  me,"  said  Mr.  Winfield. 

And  this  was  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes. 
The  great  oval  window  encased  in  a  broad, 
thick  frame  of  evergreen — the  pictures,  that 
he  supposed  were  still  in  boxes  waiting  his 
coming,  all  hung,  and  over  each  were  lovely 
wreaths  of  oak  leaves,  pine  cones  and  mosses. 
Home-made  brackets  in  beautiful  designs, 
backed  with  black  velvet,  against  which  the 
small  statues  of  Parian  marble  were  delicately 
outlined,  stood  in  every  recess. 

The   bay-window   was   transformed    into   a 


212      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

lovely  bower  of  hanging  baskets,  climbing 
vines,  and  flowers  in  pots.  Ivy  ran  over 
the  doors  and  windows.  The  whiteness  of 
the  floor  was  relieved  by  black  and  scarlet 
rugs,  and  beautiful  bouquets  stood  in  every 
available  space.  The  sofas  had  been  dressed 
in  new  bright  chintz,  the  soft  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun  threw  a  bewitching  glory  over  all, 
and  the  room  was  a  picture,  with  all  those 
bright  faces  about  it. 

"  Perfectly  paradisaical!"  said  papa,  settling 
himself  into  the  great  arm-chair.  "  This  is  a 
home  worth  having.  I  feel  like  a  monarch 
taking  possession  of  his  little  kingdom. 
What  fairies  you  are!  How  did  you  manage 
to  get  up  all  this  splendor?" 

"  Ross  and  the  carpenter  went  into  the 
woods  and  took  up  the  vines  whole!"  vol- 
unteered Cad,  "  and  set  them  in  the  pots,  and 
we  all  helped  to  put  the  moss  on." 

That  was  a  happy  Saturday  evening.  Mr. 
Winfield  was  delighted  with  his  gifts  of 
remembrance;  the  dear  old  songs  were  sung. 


Father's  Surprise.  213 

Prince  Charlie,  as  usual,  endured  the  petting 
of  the  whole  family  with  undiminished  good 
nature.  Ross  gave  an  account  of  his  work, 
and  there  was  but  one  drawback — Phil  came 
home  wet  to  the  skin  and  minus  his  shoes. 
He  gave  a  confused  account  of  himself;  said 
he  left  his  shoes  on  the  bank  to  "  go  in,"  and 
could  not  find  them  when  he  came  out. 

"But  haven't  I,  time  and  again,  expressly 
forbidden  you  to  swim  or  bathe  in  that  river?" 
his  father  asked,  sternly. 

Phil  hung  his  head. 

"Having  abused  my  confidence,  sir,"  his 
father  added,  "  I  forbid  you  to  fish  in  or  go 
near  the  river  for  a  month." 

But  Phil  did  not  speak.  His  proud  little 
lip  quivered  for  a  moment,  and  his  father  dis- 
missed him.  Mrs.  Winfield  pleaded  for  an 
abatement  of  the  sentence,  but  his  father  was 
resolute. 

"Phil  has  been  such  a  good  little  fellow, 
so  long!"  said  his  mother. 

"  He  must  learn  to  obey  as  implicitly  when 


214       The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

out  of  my  sight  as  when  I  am  by ;  else,  away 
from  home  as  I  am  most  of  the  time,  he  will 
become  dishonest  as  well  as  disobedient." 
And  so  Phil  was  in  disgrace. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PLAYING      Bl  DDY. 

"  In  every  rank,  or  great  or  small, 
"lie  industry  supports  us  all." 

ATHER    PRIMROSE,   with    Ross, 
had   staked  out   next   year's  straw- 
berry bed,  and   made  arrangements 
for  a  future  greenhouse. 
"I  intend  to  grow  fruit  for  the  city  mar- 
kets," he  said  proudly  to  his  father. 

"And  reely,  wife,  the  method  of  him,"  said 
father  Primrose,  drinking  his  noon  tumbler 
of  milk.  "  I  never  see  any  thing  beat  him  for 
brains.  He's  as  cute  as  any  surveyor ;  he's 
that  rare  genus,  a  born  farmer,  that  young  un, 
and  I  can't  tell  him  much.  The  way  he 
catches  an  idee  is  cur'us.  'O,  I  see,'  ses  he, 

215 


2 1 6      TJie  Little  Folks  of  Redboiv. 

'I  see;'  and  goes  and  tells  how  the  thing  can 
be  done  from  root  to  branch.  Tell  you  what 
mother,  he'll  make  old  Redbow  shine,  one  o' 
these  days." 

Mother  Primrose  went  up  to  the  "big" 
house  a  few  hours  every  day.  It  was  she  who 
initiated  Kate  into  the  mysteries  of  making 
sponge-cake,  and  of  sundry  other  delicacies. 
Nothing  suited  Kate  better  than  to  don  the 
cooking  apron,  tie  on  a  bit  of  muslin  over  the 
pretty  curls,  and  dabble  in  flour  and  eggs. 

Fanny  had  a  wonderful  genius  for  finding 
eggs,  mother  Primrose  said.  All  hidden  nests 
were  revealed  to  her,  and  the  good  mother 
biddies  seemed  instinctively  to  feel  that  they 
must  do  their  best  when  she  was  round.  Per- 
haps ribbons  were  as  precious  to  Fanny  as 
ever,  but  she  was  certainly  developing  new 
excellencies  of  character.  She  took  charge 
of  the  pretty  sitting-room;  the  flowers  she 
picked  over,  added  to  or  changed,  and  as  she 
was  a  particular  little  body,  not  a  grain  of  dust 
escaped  her  quick  glance. 


Playing  Biddy.  217 

Cad  and  Linda  had  all  they  could  do  to 
keep  their  little  house  over  the  barn  in  a  neat 
condition.  It  was  great  fun  to  see  them,  in 
dresses  suited  to  the  occupation,  scouring 
away  on  bended  knees  at  the  white  pine  floor, 
or  polishing  the  stove  and  cooking  untensils. 

These  plebeian  tastes,  as  Fanny  called  them, 
Mrs.  Winfield  encouraged.  Fanny  went  with 
a  horrified  face  to  her  mamma,  after  rinding 
them  thus  employed  one  day. 

"  My  dear,  it  is  the  best  exercise  in  the 
world,  for  them,"  said  that  judicious  woman. 
"It  was  recommended  for  me  when  I  was  a 
little  girl  with  a  weak  chest,  and  I  often 
scrubbed  up  small  rooms  and  halls.  I  know 
just  what  a  pleasure  it  is,  when  done  for  play, 
so  I  shall  let  them  make  Biddies  of  themselves 
as  often  as  they  are  inclined.  It  won't  do  to 
allow  you  little  folks  to  run  all  to  brains." 

"But, 'mamma,  uncle  Harry  is  very  rich  in 
India,  and  Linda  had  servants  for  every  thing; 
she  didn't  even  wash  her  own  face.  Would 
her  papa  like  it?" 


2 1 8      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Her  papa  has  given  her  in  our  charge,  my 
dear,  and  I  presume  he  wishes  her  to  grow 
into  healthful,  happy,  well  developed  woman- 
hood. You  remember  what  a  sallow  little 
creature  she  was  when  she  first  came  here, 
only  six  months  ago,  and  how  she  mourned 
for  the  candies  and  pernicious  delicacies  she 
had  been  so  long  accustomed  to.  Look  at 
her  now.  Her  cheeks  have  lost  that  unhealthy 
yellow  tinge,  and  are  getting  quite  rosy. 
Suppose  we  had  allowed  her  indulgence  in 
her  unwholesome  whims!  I  don't  believe  her 
father  would  have  thanked  me.  She  eats 
three  meals  a  day,  with  a  healthy  appetite, 
and  enjoys  herself  in  useful  as  well  as  pleasant 
recreation.  If  she  wants  to  mop  floors,  or 
even  scour  them,  it  wont  do  her  any  harm." 

"But  don't  you  believe  Cad  will  have  just 
such  common  tastes  all  the  days  of  her  life  ?" 

Mrs.  Winfield  laughed,  as  she  answered : 

"Cad  will  learn  the  difference  between 
work  and  play  soon  enough;  I  have  no  fear 
for  her,  dear  little  happy  housekeeper.  I  do 


Playing  Biddy.  219 

think,  however,  that  her  tastes  will  always  be 
in  that  direction,  and  whatever  reverses  may 
happen  to  her  in  after  life,  she  will  always  be 
self-reliant,  and  able  to  work." 

Ross  came  in  that  minute,  a  letter  post- 
marked India,  in  his  hand.  It  was  nearly 
three  months  since  they  had  heard  from  uncle 
Harry.  Ross  had  been  down  to  the  village 
post-office,  two  miles  off;  the  letter  had  been 
lying  there  over  a  week. 

"Some  of  the  clerks  in  your  father's  old 
store  must  have  sent  it  here,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
field.  "Suppose  you  call  Linda?" 

Linda  came,  her  eyes  shining,  her  hair 
blown  about  by  the  wind,  her  hat  in  her  hand. 

"  Ross  says  there's  a  letter  from  papa." 

"  Yes,  dear,  and  how  nice  to  think  you  have 
improved  so  much  that  you  can  read  it  your- 
self," said  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"It's  pretty  hard,"  she  said. 

"But  you  can  do  it." 

"O,  yes,  I'll  try;"  and  down  sat  Linda, 
patiently  to  decipher  a  rather  bad  hand. 


220      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

As  Linda  opened  the  letter,  something 
fluttered  to  the  floor. 

"It  must  be  money,"  said  Linda,  as  Mrs. 
Winfield  picked  the  paper  up. 

"Yes,  dear,  a  large  sum  for  a  little  girl; 
your  papa  has  sent  you  an  order  on  his 
banker  for  three  hundred  dollars.  He  must 
think  his  little  girl  needs  a  great  many  dresses 
and  nice  things." 

"But  I  don't,"  said  Linda  eagerly;  "I've 
plenty  of  dresses,  even  for  parties,  if  I  went  to 
them.  Three  hundred  dollars!  O,  I  must  go 
and  tell  Cad!" 

"  The  letter  first,  dear — and  see,  you  are 
trembling  with  excitement,  that  won't  do." 

It's  a  short  letter,"  said  Linda,  trying  to 
compose  herself. 

"  MY  DEAR  LITTLE  GIRL: — I  have  written 
to  your  uncle  in  another  letter.  I  send  this 
money  for  yourself.  Don't  forget  that  papa 
loves  his  little  daughter,  and  thinks  of  her. 
I  have  something  of  importance  to  tell  you: 


Playing  Biddy.  221 

you  have  a  new  mamma,  a  very  sweet  and 
good  lady,  and  I  hope  that  some  time  you 
will  see  her,  and  that  you  and  she  will  love 
each  other  very  much.  Both  she  and  I 
agree  in  thinking  that  you  had  better  remain 
with  your  aunt." 

"  O,"  cried  the  child,  with  a  deep  drawn 
breath,  "I  am  so  glad  of  that!  wouldn't  it 
be  queer  to  be  introduced  to  my  mamma? 
But  I  love  you  so  dearly,  I  hope  papa  will 
let  me  stay  till  I  am  a  great,  grown  lady." 

"  I  hope  so  too,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield, 
returning  her  kiss. 

Linda  sat  down  again  to  her  letter. 

"  You  are  to  do  exactly  what  you  please 
with  your  money." 

"  O,"  interpolated  Linda  again,  "  I  do  want 
a  pony,  and  so  does  Cad.  Yes,  we  must  have 
ponies— may  we?  You  know  there's  a  nice 
little  pony-chaise  in  the  carriage-house,  and 
Ross  said  he  could  mend  it.  Then  Cad  and 
I  would  enjoy  ourselves.  Don't  you  think 
the  money  would  buy  two  dear  little  ponies?" 


222      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Finish  your  letter,  love;  we'll  see  what 
papa  says  about  the  ponies." 

"  And  now  good  by,  little  daughter,  with 
a  hundred  kisses.  Your  old  Ayah  wishes 
to  be  remembered  to  you.  She  is  still  in 
the  house,  with  two  of  her  own  little  brown 
babies,  and  very  useful  to  your  new  mamma. 
A  great  deal  of  love  to  all,  and  be  sure  to 
write  me  a  long  letter,  and  tell  me  every 
thing  about  your  studies,  and  all  your  dear 
cousins. 

"Your  devoted  and  affectionate  father,  etc., 
etc." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PONIES      AND      SPONGE-CAKE 


"  I  would  plant  rich  seed,  to  blossom  in  mj?  manhood, 
and  bear  fruit  when  I  am  old." 

O  her  aunt,  Linda  gave  the  note, 
and  hurried  breathlessly  back  to 
the  barn  playhouse. 

"O,  Cad!  Cad!  what  do  you  think 
came  in  my  letter?  Ponies,  ponies!  Petkin 
ought  to  get  well  of  the  measles  right  off, 
and  Felice  must  stop  coughing." 

"  Ponies — in  a  letter !"  exclaimed  Cad,  who 
had  swathed  Petkin  in  blankets,  and  had  been 
industriously  improvising  quite  a  sick-room 
atmosphere,  in  the  shape  of  bottles  and  baths 
and  pill-boxes. 

223 


224      TJie  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

I  mean,  the  money  came  to  buy  them; 
we're  going  to  have  a  pony  apiece." 

"A  pony  apiece!"  screamed  Cad,  clapping 
her  hands — "  O !  that  is  altogether  too  ele- 
gant !" 

"  That  is,  you  know,  I  hope  we  are,"  con- 
tinued Linda,  rather  sobered  at  Cad's  raptur- 
ous exclamations. 

"  Do  you  mean  a  truly  pony  ?"  queried  Cad, 
who  sometimes  used  this  rather  infantile 
expression,  a  reminiscence  of  the  days  when 
she  was  little. 

"Yes,  if  aunt  and  uncle  both  say  yes;  be- 
cause you  see  papa  has  sent  me  three  hundred 
dollars ;  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

She  paused  a  moment  to  note  the  effect  of 
her  speech  in  Cad's  dilating  eyes — "And  I  am 
to  spend  it  just  as  I  please,  every  cent  of  it." 

"  O,  oh !  my  goodness  !"  emphasized  Cad, 
and  then  paused  with  unspeakable  interjec- 
tions written  all  over  her  face. 

Her  next  move  was  to  catch  up  quiet,  much 
suffering  Petkin,  and  hug  it  with  passionate 


Ponies  and  Sponge- Cake.         225 

warmth,  covering  its  stolid  shining  face  with 
kisses. 

"We  are  all  well,  now,  darling,"  she  cried; 
"at  least  the  sickness  has  taken  a  favorable 
turn — don't  you  think  it  has,  Linda?  I  do 
believe  the  doctor  will  say  she  ought  to  ride 
out." 

"Yes,  indeed ;  it  will  do  her  more  good  than 
all  this  nasty  medicine — especially  on  ponies. 
I  guess  I'll  put  the  bottles  away,  and  the  pills 
too.  They  will  keep  against  another  sudden 
attack  of — any  thing  else,  you  know." 

"Bilious  fever,"  suggested  Cad. 

"Don't  you  see  the  ponies,  saddled  and 
bridled,  standing  down  at  the  door?"  cried 
Linda,  clasping  her  hands  fervently.  "  O, 
Cad,"  tak'ing  on  a  penitential  tone,  "  I  don't 
know  as  we  deserve  so  much  happiness." 

"But  we  haven't  got  'em  yet,"  said  Cad; 
"may-be  papa  won't  see  fit." 

"  O,  yes  he  will ;  and  what  do  you  think — 
guess — what  has  papa  got?" 

"  A  white  elephant  ?"  queried  Cad. 


226      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  O,  dear,  no ;  better  than  that." 

"I  never  could  guess  conundrums  or  any 
thing,"  said  Cad,  suddenly  anxious. 

"  It  isn't  a  conundrum  at  all,  its  a — new — 
mamma !" 

"For  you?" 

"  For  me !" 

"  She'll  want  you !"  cried  Cad  in  great 
alarm,  catching  hold  of  Linda;  "you  can't 
go,  I  cant  let  you  go." 

"  No,  she  wont  want  me — I  should  hope 
not!"  said  Linda;  "papa  says  I'm  to  stay 
here.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"It's  better  than  the  ponies,"  said  Cad, 
"supposing  we  should  get  them.  O,  I  was 
so  frightened?" 

"  Let's  go  over  to  the  house  and  tell  the 
girls,"  said  Linda;  and  putting  their  dolls 
carefully  away,  quite  cured  of  measles  and 
whooping-cough,  they  hurried  to  Redbow 
mansion. 

There  they  found  Kate  in  the  sitting-room, 
showing,  with  no  little  pride,  a  golden  loaf 


Ponies  and  Sponge-Cake.         227 

of  sponge-cake.  Mother  Primrose  had  fol- 
lowed her,  and  the  sweet,  genial  old  face, 
that  reminded  one  of  dried  rose  leaves  a 
little  crumpled,  beamed  all  over  with  plea- 
sure. 

"  Every  mite,  Mrs.  Winfield,"  she  was 
saying,  "  every  mite  she  did  with  her  own 
blessed  little  hands.  Says  I,  '  I  won't  even 
look,  deary,  for  I've  that  confidence  in  you;' 
and  I  didn't.  It's  every  whit  as  good  as  her 
silver-cake,  and  as  nice  as  I  could  do  it 
myself.  It's  every  thing  to  git  a  good  bake. 
Scorch  it  a  hair's  breadth,  your  labor's  lost. 
I  want  just  the  gold  all-overish  color,  or  I 
want  nothing.  It's  just  the  way  with  some 
folks,  mam,  they  seem  mixed  right,  but  some- 
how they  git  streaked  in  the  baking." 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,  Kate,"  said  Mrs. 
Winfield;  "a  perfect  success — we  won't  cut 
it  till  papa  comes  home." 

Kate,  flushed  and  happy,  turned  away  with 
her  treasure. 

Mrs.  Primrose  lingered. 


228      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"If  I  might  be  so  bold,"  she  said,  "I 
should  like  to  ride  down  to  the  depot,  Mon- 
day, with  Mr.  Winfield.  There's  caliker  and 
muslin  to  be  got,  for  the  sheeting  is  most 
gin  out  I  haven't  bought  any  to  speak 
of  for  ten  year." 

"Mother,  there's  shop,"  said  Cad.  "It's 
all  in  boxes." 

"Sure  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  smiling, 
"I  had  almost  forgotten  shop.  I'm  afraid 
we'll  have  to  set  it  up  over  the  barn;  can  you 
spare  a  bit  of  your  house?" 

Mother  Primrose  looked  mystified. 

"If  you  don't  care  about  going  to  the 
village,  Mrs.  Primrose,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield, 
"  I  think  we  can  suit  you.  We  have  plenty 
of  good  muslin,  and  nice  plain  calicoes, 
besides  cotton,  needles,  and  an  assortment  of 
dry  goods  generally." 

"Deary  me!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Primrose, 
gazing  vaguely  from  one  to  the  other. 

Mrs.  Winfield  explained,  and  the  good  soul 
was  relieved. 


Ponies  and  Sponge- Cake.         229 

"  I'd  give  most  anything  not  to  go  to  town, 
I'm  always  phthisicky  after  it.  Well  now,  du 
tell,  ain't  it  comfortable  to  have  things  so." 

"  Ross  shall  open  the  boxes,"  said  Mrs. 
Winfield,  "  and  you  must  take  a  dress  as  a 
present  from  me." 

"  Well  I  never — I'm  sure  you  are  too  kind," 
said  the  grateful  old  lady;  "and  the  idee 
is  so  nice !  Your  children  will  know  every 
thing — keepin  shop,  and  keepin  house — well 
well,  you  allays  was  a  little  methody." 

Mrs.  Winfield  smiled  as  the  good  old  lady 
went  out,  radiant. 

"  Mamma,  she  says  you  are  perfect,"  spoke 
up  Cad,  "and  /  think  you  are." 

"Very  far  from  it,  darling,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
field,  her  face  suddenly  grave. 

"You  must  be,"  continued  Cad,  with  quiet 
emphasis.  "  You  never  get  angry,  as  we  little 
folks  do,  or  careless,  or  lazy;  do  you  ?" 

"I'm  afraid,  dear,  I  get  angry  oftener  than 
you  suspect,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  an  amused 
smile  breaking  over  her  face. 


230      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Why,  when — where?" 

"I  can't  boast  of  perfection,  yet  awhile," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield,  a  little  sadly — "at  least 
while  I  have  such  an  ignorant  girl  in  the 
kitchen.  I  get  very  impatient  at  times,  but 
I  should  be  sorry  if  I  did  not  try  to  control 
my  temper,  looking  to  our  dear  Lord,  who 
knows  how  frail  the  best  of  us  must  be.  The 
trouble  is  not  in  possessing  the  hasty  temper, 
my  dear,  but  in  letting  it  out  in  ugly  words  or 
unkind  actions,  to  the  injury  of  ourselves  and 
those  around  us.  When  I  feel  that  quick, 
uprising  heat,  I  put  my  lips  together  this  way, 
and  simply  determine  that  I  will  hold  my 
tongue.  That  is  the  best  remedy,  and  one  you 
know  I  often  advise  you  to  try." 

Then  ensued  a  silence,  broken  by  Linda. 
"  Well," — with   a   long  breath,    "  /  am   so 
glad !" 

"What  are  you  glad  of,  dear?" 

"That  you  are  just  like  the  rest  of  us — only 
better — only  you  know  how.  But  you  are 
not  careless,  like  I  am." 


Ponies  and  Sponge- Cake.         231 

"Don't  say  like  I  am,  Linda,  dear,  for  it  is 
very  bad  taste,  to  say  nothing  of  the  grammar. 
I  was  careless,  once,  if  that  will  comfort  you." 

"You,  mamma!"  cried  Cad.     "O-h!" 

"When  I  was  a  little  girl,  dear,  of  your 
age." 

"  And  now  you  are  just  as  neat  as  a  new 
pin." 

"  I  try  to  be,  darling." 

"How  did  you  learn?" 

"By  determining  that  I  would  never  take 
an  article  from  its  place,  unless  I  returned  it 
again.  Never,  under  any  circumstances,  leav- 
ing drawers  or  boxes  disarranged.  By  keep- 
ing a  strict  watch  over  myself  in  these  particu- 
lar matters.  So,  you  see,  care  and  method 
grew  to  be  second  nature.  It  would  be 
almost  impossible  for  me  to  be  untidy  now." 

"  O,  mamma,"  you  are  splendid !"  cried  Cad, 
with  sudden  enthusiasm.  "  I  want  to  hug 
you ;"  and  presently  Mrs.  Winfield  had  them 
both  about  her  neck. 

"  And  I  think  my  little  girls  are  splendid." 


232      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Sometimes,  mamma; — not  always  good, 
like  you.  Now,  don't  you  say  you  are  not 
always  good,  because  you  are." 

"And  when  we  get  our  ponies,"  said  Linda, 
"  we'll  take  you  out  airing  every  day.' 

A  merry  laugh  ended  the  interview. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


COUNTRY    PLEASURES. 


"  Give  me  the  green  sward  with  its  flowers, 
And  mirth  and  song  and  jollity. 


ANNY,  Cad  and  Linda  were  playing 
with    Prince   Charlie    on    the    front 
porch,  still  discussing  the  subject  of 
ponies,  when  Cad  exclaimed: 
"  O,   I  see  an  ^/-egant  carriage,  and  I  do 
believe  it's  coming  right  straight  here." 

It  was  coming,  not  straight,  but  in  a  curved 
line,  and  it  certainly  seemed  as  if  it  meant  to 
stop  at  Redbow  porch.  The  children  went 
in  to  tell  Mrs.  Winfield,  who  quietly  divested 
herself  of  her  white  apron,  smoothed  her 
dress,  and  was  ready  for  company. 

It  proved  to  be  a  lady  who  was  spending 

233 


234      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  summer  two  or  three  miles  from  Redbow. 
She  had  been  a  friend  of  Linda's  mamma,  and 
was  glad  of  this  opportunity  of  forming  an 
acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Winfield. 

At  her  request  the  children  were  sent  for. 
Linda  was,  of  course,  the  most  noticed  and 
caressed. 

"  I  knew  your  mamma  when  she  was  quite 
a  little  child,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  for  I  was 
born  in  England,  and  we  went  to  the  same 
school.  I  have  five  little  girls,  the  eldest 
about  the  age  of  miss  Kate  here.  They  were 
promised  a  party  on  Marcia's  birth-day,  which 
comes  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  this  month. 
Marcia  wished  me  to  come  over  here  and 
invite  your  little  girls.  If  we  send  a  carriage 
for  them  at  noon  on  that  day,  will  you  let 
them  come,  Mrs.  Winfield?" 

Kate  smiled,  Fanny's  eyes  sparkled,  Cad 
and  Linda  secretly  squeezed  each  other's 
hands. 

Mamma  saw  no  objection. 

"  It  will  be  a  bright  moonlight  evening,  I 


Country  Pleasures.  235 

hope,"  continued  the  visitor,  "  and  my  horses 
and  my  driver  are  safe.  Of  course,  I  include 
your  sons  in  the  invitation— I  think  you  told 
me  there  were  two.  We  have  a  fine  croquet 
ground,  and  we  shall  endeavor  to  procure  a 
band  of  music.  The  only  parties  we  ever  give 
are  those  in  honor  of  our  children's  and  our 
own  birth-days,  and  we  try  to  make  them  as 
interesting  as  possible." 

They  shall  all  be  ready  by  noon  of  the 
2/th,  Mrs.  Winfield  promised. 

Mrs.  Baker,  for  such  was  the  visitor's  name, 
grew  enthusiastic  as  she  watched  the  shifting 
colors  on  old  Redbow's  sides. 

"  I  should  never  weary  of  it,"  she  said ; 
"  what  a  poet's  home  you  have !  I  must  tell 
the  children  about  the  flowers  and  the  vines : 
I  really  never  saw  anything  like  it;  and  the 
view  from  that  oval  window  is  simply  perfect." 

When  their  new  friend  had  gone,  the  busy 
little  tongues  chattered  like  the  clicking  of 
machinery.  Fanny,  the  only  discontented  one, 
declared  she  had  nothing  fit  to  wear. 


236      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Your  sweet  blue  muslin,"  said  Kate. 

"I  tore  it  in  the  front  breadth." 

"Your  beautiful  summer  silk." 

"I  spoiled  it  with  cherry  stains — they'll 
never  come  out." 

'  Your  white,  tucked  dress,  then." 

"  A  yard  too  short,"  said  Fanny,  disconso- 
lately "  and  old  fashioned." 

"  Then  what  shall  we  do  ?"  asked  Kate,  a 
little  disconsolate,  turning  to  Mrs.  WinHeld. 

"What  will  you  wear,  dear?"  asked  her 
mother. 

"My  white  mull,  freshly  done  up.  Won't 
that  look  nice  with  cherry  ribbons,  or  some- 
thing?" 

"  If  Fanny  thinks  we  can  make  it  among  us, 
she  may  have  my  white  and  blue  check  silk," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"O,  mamma!  that  splendid  thing!"  cried 
Fanny.  "But  Kate  is  the  eldest;  it  ought 
to  be  hers,"  she  added,  growing  despondent, 
again. 

Kate  wavered,  she  had  often  admired  the 


Country  Pleasures.  237 

blue   and  white   silk,  but  it  was  only   for  a 
moment. 

I  had  just  as  lief  have  the  white  one,"  she 
said,  quietly.  "  I'm  too  dark  for  blue,  and 
Fanny's  complexion  is  just  right.  We  will 
all  help  make  it,  mother." 

Mrs.  Winfield  smiled  in  a  pleased  way. 
She  thought  of  a  nice  piece  of  black  silk, 
snuggly  tucked  away  in  one  of  her  trunks, 
just  enough  to  make  a  stylish  little  overskirt 
with  bretelles,  for  Kate,  and  it  could  be  trim- 
med with  rich  lace  from  one  of  her  now  use- 
less dresses.  This  she  meant  to  do  without 
letting  the  generous  girl  into  the  secret. 

"  You  shall  have  the  dress  to  take  to  pieces 
after  study-hours,  to-morrow,"  she  said  aloud. 
"  Fanny  must  find  an  old  gown  that  she  likes, 
and  rip  the  body.  Then  we  can  cut  the  silk 
over  it,"  added  Mrs.  Winfield;  "and  I  think  it 
will  make  a  really  nice  dress." 

"What  shall  we  wear?"  queried  Cad,  who 
had  been  talking  the  while  in  an  undertone 
with  Linda. 


238      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"We'll  get  you  off  in  your  best  calicoes," 
laughed  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"Cad  shall  have  one  of  my  mulls,  and  then 
we  shall  be  twins,"  said  Linda. 

"And  we'll  both  wear  cherry  ribbons," 
suggested  Cad.  "Her  clothes  just  fit  me." 

"  But  you  have  plenty  of  your  own,  dear," 
said  her  mother. 

"O,  but  you  see,  we  want  to  be  exactly 
alike,"  pleaded  Linda. 

"And  then,  none  of  mine  are  so  fine;  why 
hers  are  just  like  air;  you  can  hardly  see  them 
when  you  hold  them  up  to  the  light.  Please 
mayn't  I,  mamma?" 

Mrs.  Winfield  yielded,  and  it  was  settled. 
Fanny  gave  Kate  a  hearty  kiss. 

"  You  are  the  dearest,  most  unselfish  sister 
in  the  world,"  she  said. 

"May-be  if  I  hadn't  been  dark,"  Kate 
replied,  "  I  might  have  been  more  selfish." 

"  I  wish  I  was  dark,"  responded  Fanny. 
"  I  truly  do,  as  Cad  says;  I  think  brown 
eyes  are  beautiful." 


Country  Pleasures.  239 

After  lessons  next  day — and  I  am  afraid 
they  were  not  as  perfect  as  usual — the  girls 
went  up  into  the  nursery,  to  rip  the  seams 
of  the  pretty  blue  silk. 

"How  kind  mother  is!"  said  Fanny;  "do 
you  think  our  own  mother  could  have  been 
kinder?" 

"  No,  indeed,  I  do  not,"  was  Kate's  resolute 
reply.  "I  do  believe  she  would  have  been 
just  like  her.  Take  care  and  don't  let  the 
scissors  slip,  you'll  cut  the  silk." 

"I  can't  be  patient,"  said  Fanny,  with  a 
jerk,  making  another  small  rent. 

"  You  must  be,  Fanny ;  this  silk  is  too  good 
to  spoil." 

"But  how  can  I  be?  I  tell  you  what, 
I'll  get  my  old  waist,  that  I'm  going  to  cut 
a  pattern  by,  and  rip  that.  I'm  not  fit  to  do 
any  thing  carefully,  I  get  so  nervous." 

"  Mamma  wouldn't  say  that,"  replied  Kate. 
"  She  would  tell  you  to  conquer  yourself, 
even  in  ripping." 

"  There's  no  use,  Kate,  not  the  slightest — 


240     The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

there's  another  slip.  I  hold  it  just  as  even 
as  I  can,  hateful  old  thing!" 

"Hateful  old  thing!  that  pretty  dress! 
And  you  were  so  glad  of  it." 

Fanny  was  silent  She  put  her  lips  to- 
gether, and  went  on  hacking  and  mutilating 
for  a  few  moments.  Then  she  paused. 

"  What  an  ugly,  hateful  disposition  I  must 
have,"  she  said;  "if  things  don't  go  just 
easy,  I  am  angry  right  off." 

"It's  something,  dear,  to  be  conscious  of 
one's  faults,"  Kate  said,  gently. 

"I  just  will  conquer  it — I'm  determined," 
said  Fanny,  resolutely,  and  she  set  her  lips 
together  again,  this  time  to  some  purpose. 

It  was  really  astonishing  how,  after  awhile, 
the  stubborn  seams  yielded.  Fanny's  brow 
grew  brighter,  and  her  talk  more  cheerful, 
smiles  came  to  her  lips.  She  felt  that  at  last 
her  good  angel  had  triumphed. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


DRESS-MAKING,    AND      ITS      TRIALS. 

"  To  stitch  and  pick  out,  to  gather  and  hem, 

Was  ever  poor  maiden  so  bothered  before, 
I  wish  dresses  grew  like  the  apples,  on  trees, 
For  sewing  and  seaming  all  day  is  a  bore." 

HE  morning  of  the  party  dawned 
clear,  bright  and  beautiful.  Not  a 
cloud  was  in  the  sky,  the  air  was 
laden  balmily  with  the  breath  of 
thousands  of  flowers.  Old  Redbow  broke  out 
of  the  earlier  mists,  and  flushed  all  over  with 
gold  and  crimson,  as  the  splendor  of  the  risen 
sun  enveloped  him. 

Jewels  hung  from  every  tiny  blade  of  grass, 
every  tasselled  ear  of  corn  was  splendid  with 
diamonds.  Mr.  Winfield  had  given  himself 
a  brief  vacation.  He  stood  upon  the  front 


16 


241 


242      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

porch,  Prince  Charlie  in  his  arms.  The  little 
fellow  seemed  in  fine  joyous  sympathy  with 
nature.  Sunlight  and  gorgeous  color,  the  fresh 
aromatic  fragrance  of  the  pines,  the  lovely 
tinting  of  field  and  sky,  were  not  lost  even  upon 
his  baby  senses.  He  laughed  and  crowed  in 
sympathy  with  them,  and  repeated  his  one 
word  of  appreciation,  "  Pitty  !  pitty !"  with  eyes 
as  clear  and  soft  as  the  blue  sky  itself. 

The  little  girls  within  were  helping  mamma 
to  the  best  of  their  ability.  Cad  and  Linda 
were  rolling  up  fresh  white  napkins,  and  slip- 
ping them  in  their  ivory  rings.  Fanny  was 
giving  an  extra  polish  to  the  glass  goblets, 
and  the  pitcher  in  which  the  warm,  rich  milk 
was  poured  every  morning.  Kate  appeared 
at  the  door,  a  plate  in  her  hand  heaped  with 
golden-tinted  corn  cakes,  and  finally,  Mrs. 
Winfield  came  in  to  cut  the  wheaten  loaf. 

"  Mamma,  Fanny  says  you  can  tell  by  feel- 
ing, when  the  glass  is  not  clean;  can  you?" 

"I  think  I  can,  Cad." 

"Well,   the    only  way  to    get   it  perfectly 


Dress- Making.  243 

clean,  is  to  wash  and  rinse  in  very  hot  water, 
isn't  it?" 

"That  is  the  best  way,  I  think." 

"  If  yon  think  so,  then  it  is  the  right  way." 

The  hum  of  childish  talk,  and  little  bursts 
of  merry  laughter  rang  out  to  the  porch. 
Ross  had  joined  his  father;  nurse  had  taken 
Prince  Charlie. 

"The  corn  looks  well,  sir,"  said  Ross. 

"  I  never  saw  better,"  his  father  responded. 
"  Ross,  I  begin  to  believe,  as  father  Primrose 
declares,  you're  a  '  born  farmer.'  " 

"  It  does  seem  to  come  natural,"  said  Ross, 
flushing,  "and  I  am  never  happier  than  when 
I'm  working  in  the  soil.  Once  in  a  while  I 
have  some  trouble  with  the  hands,  but  father 
Primrose  always  gets  me  out  again." 

"  You  dont  regret  giving  up  a  profession 
then.  What  will  you  do  when  you  see  your 
old  school-fellows  shooting  ahead,  while  you 
are  plodding?" 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,  what's  to  hinder  me 
from  shooting  ahead  ?  If  there  isn't  a  great 


244      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

deal  of  money  to  be  made  out  of  farming,  it 
seems  to  me  there's  a  great  deal  of  happi- 
ness, and  I'd  rather  be  happy  and  healthy,  than 
rich.  Still,  to  one  who  has,  as  you  are  pleased 
to  say  I  have,  a  decided  talent  for  farming,  I 
believe  there  is  money  in  it — a  good  deal,  too, 
in  the  long  run.  All  those  fellows  of  ours, 
will  be  constantly  exposed  to  the  temptations 
of  city  life,  and  some  I  know  are  not  proof 
against  very  slight  ones,  so  there  you  see  I 
have  a  decided  advantage  over  them.  I'm 
down  on  the  city  for  young  men." 

"I  see  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Winfield,  a  plea- 
sant smile  changing  the  look  of  deep  earnest- 
ness he  wore;  "so  I  suppose  I  must  let  you 
have  your  'ain'  way." 

The  breakfast-bell  rang,  and  presently  the 
whole  family  were  seated  at  a  well-ordered 
table. 

"  This  is  some  of  our  Kate's  butter,  dear," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield,  passing  the  dish. 

"Kate's!  You  don't  tell  me  she  makes 
butter  too." 


Dress-Making.  245 

"She  churned  and  made  four  pounds  yes- 
terday." 

"  Sweet  as  a  nut,"  was  the  verdict,  while 
Kate's  cheeks  burned,  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 

"The  wonder  to  me  is  how  she  does  so 
much,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  "and  keeps  up 
with  her  studies." 

"She  does  that,"  said  Ross ;  "I  have  to  work 
sharp  to  run  ahead,  or  rather,  I  did." 

Ross  had  resigned  his  post  of  teacher,  in 
favor  of  Mrs.  Winfield. 

Mr.  Winfield's  face  grew  radiant.  Softly  to 
himself  he  murmured: 

"All  things  shall  work  together  for  good 
to  those  who  love  God." 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  aside  to  his  wife,  "men 
sometimes  condole  with  me  since  my  business 
losses,  that  I  have  buried  myself  and  my 
family  in  the  country.  It  makes  me  pity  them, 
for  I  think  that  I  am,  without  exception,  one 
of  the  happiest  men  to-day  on  the  face  of  the 
earth.  Money !  why  it  is  dross  compared  to 
the  riches  I  see  around  me.  I  don't  know 


246      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

that  I  care  ever  to  go  back  to  city  life,  do 
you  ?" 

"  Never,"  was  the  reply. 

Poor  Fanny  had  shed  many  tears  and  lifted 
many  crosses  during  her  self-imposed  task  of 
cutting  and  making.  Over  and  over  again 
had  seams  to  be  unbasted,  breadths  ripped, 
bias  folds  widened  and  narrowed.  That  per- 
verse genius  that  dwells  not  within  the 
precincts  of  first  class  modistes,  and  skilful 
workwomen,  perched  itself  atop  every  new 
effort  and  caused  woful  failure.  The  dress 
which  Fanny  cut  by,  was  a  favorite  one,  but 
she  had  so  changed  under  the  blessed  auspices 
of  Redbow,  that  it  was  now  both  too  short 
and  too  small  for  her. 

Then  Fanny  sat  down,  and  undisciplined 
girl-fashion,  had  a  good  cry  over  it.  Tears 
for  such  failures,  she  knew  her  mother  con- 
demned, particularly  angry  ones,  so  her  only 
course  was  to  try  and  remedy  the  difficulty, 
which  she  did  after  many  trials  of  patience, 
and  with  Kate's  help. 


Dress-Making.  247 

Time  would  fail  me  to  tell  of  the  number- 
less seams  sewed  wrong  side  out,  that  being 
Fanny's  failing,  the  result  of  thoughtlessness. 
Then  when  the  almost  herculean  task  seemed 
nearly  finished,  behold  she  had  stitched  the 
skirt  back  foremost,  gathers  and  plaits  all 
reversed,  and  neatly  fastened. 

"  It  does  seem,"  cried  Fanny,  when  Kate 
pointed  out  the  fault,  "  as  if  I  should  like  to 
sit  down,  and  tear  this  horrid  dress  to  bits. 
Four  days  have  I  been  working  over  this 
skirt.  I've  a  great  mind  to  throw  it  in  the 
fire." 

"  I  had  rather  you  would  throw  it  at  me," 
said  Kate,  cheerfully.  "  I  would  rectify  all 
mistakes." 

"Kate,  do  look  cross,  or  something,  if  it 
isn't  your  trouble.  It's  awfully  provoking, 
and  you  know  it  is,  after  all  this  hard  work, 
to  have  it  to  go  over  again.  Do  you  know  I 
feel  a  sort  of  personal  hatred  towards  this 
dress,  as  if  it  were  something  human,  trying 
to  spite  me?" 


248      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Kate;  "I've  felt  just  so 
many  a  time;  but  then  you  know,  Fanny,  it 
isn't  a  good  spirit  to  cherish." 

"One  can't  be  good;  it's  just  impossible," 
retorted  poor  Fanny.  "The  more  you  try, 
the  harder  and  the  worse  it  is — and  I  don't 
care." 

"One  can  conquer  foolish,  unreasonable 
feelings,"  said  Kate. 

"Well,  it  \sn\your  dress,  nor  your  trouble," 
said  Fant^y  with  some  heat.  "  Besides,  what's 
the  use  ?  if  you  gave  me  ever  so  much  sym- 
pathy 'twouldn't  help  me.  One  has  to  keep 
going  over  and  over  it,  doing  just  the  same 
wrong  things  to  -morrow  we've  repented  of  to- 
day. I've  conquered,  I  do  believe,  a  thousand 
and  one  times.  I  don't  like  to  have  to." 

"  But  for  all  that,  its  keep  having'  to  all  one's 
life,  I  suppose,"  said  Kate. 

"  Then  what's  the  use  of  being  here  at  all, 
of  living,  any  way?"  pouted  Fanny,  "it's  awful 
tiresome." 

Kate   did   not   answer  just   then.       Fanny 


Dress-Making.  249 

looked  tearfully  up  into  the  pure  calm  sky, 
on  the  shadow-chased  gorges  of  Redbow. 

"What's  the  use  of  living?"  echoed  back  on 
her  unquiet  heart.  The  thought  of  something 
her  father  had  said  in  the  morning  prayers, 
thanking  God  for  so  many  mercies — that  no 
sickness  had  fallen  upon  them — that  they  were 
all  in  full  possession  of  their  faculties,  sight, 
hearing,  the  power  of  speech,  the  will  of  help- 
fulness, the  ability  to  love  and  counsel  each 
other.  She  looked  again  in  the  deep  of  the 
azure  above,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  dear  Lord, 
whose  eye  pierces  the  inmost  recesses  of  the 
heart,  could  see  her  ungrateful  thoughts. 

The  dress  had  fallen  to  the  floor  beside  her 
in  a  glittering  heap.  What  a  beautiful  color 
it  was  now,  that  the  sun  shone  upon  it!  And 
how  kind  her  mamma  had  been  to  part  with  it 
so  cheerfully,  to  such  a  wilful,  fretful,  ungrate- 
ful girl.  She  lifted  it  slowly,  her  lip  quivering; 
it  was  not  so  hard  to  conquer  for  the  thousand 
and  second  time,  as  it  had  been  for  the  thou- 
sand and  first 


250      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

With  a  right  good  will  she  gathered  the 
ravelled  edges  of  her  patience,  and  began 
again.  Snip,  snip,  went  the  scissors,  but  poor 
Fanny  never  allowed  herself  to  be  without 
some  pet-worry.  Like  a  great  many  grown 
people  I  have  known,  if  troubles  did  not  come, 
she  had  the  faculty  of  improvising  them. 

"I  know  I  shan't  have  my  grammar-lesson," 
she  sighed;  "I  only  went  over  it  twice." 

"I'll  read  it  aloud,"  said  Kate,  cheerfully; 
and  with  clear,  distinct  tones  she  performed 
the  task. 

Fanny's  thoughts  wandered. 

"You  ought  to  have  had  the  silk,"  she  said. 

"Never  mind  me — I  shall  be  just  as  happy 
in  white  muslin;  do  you  think  you  understand 
the  lesson?" 

"  I  guess  so — there !"  and  the  skirt  was 
triumphantly  displayed.  "Now,  if  that  isn't 
right,  I'll" — she  caught  Kate's  eye,  hesitated, 
then  added  demurely,  "  I'll  try  again." 

"  Bravo !"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  as  she  entered 
the  room. 


Dress- Making.  251 

"There's  some  little  hope  for  me,  isn't 
there,  mamma?"  asked  Fanny,  timidly. 

"  A  great  deal,  my  dear — and  a  great  im- 
provement, too." 

"It  needs  lace  in  the  neck." 

"I'll  attend  to  that,"  said  her  mother. 

So,  as  I  said  before,  the  wished  for  holiday 
had  come  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


WHAT    CAME    OF    PHIL'S    SWIMMING. 

"Happy  the  school-boy  !  did  he  know  his  bliss, 
'Twere  ill  exchanged  for  all  the  dazzling  gema 
That  gayly  sparkle  in  ambition's  eye  ; 
His  are  the  joys  of  nature." 

LL  lessons  were  omitted.  Not  so 
the  more  important  duties  of  Cad's 
housekeeping.  Both  Cad  and  Linda, 
little  trouble-free  creatures,  knew 
they  should  be  taken  care  of,  like  human  lilies 
that  spin  not.  Doll  Blanche  was  dressed  in 
her  finest  and  best,  in  honor  of  the  party  to 
which  she  was  not  invited.  Petkin  was  put 
in  a  white  frock,  and  some  of  Felice's  finery 
borrowed  for  the  occasion.  Then  the  room 
was  set  in  thorough  order,  and  artistically 
252 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  253 

arranged,  when  lo!  like  a  sunbeam  on  the 
top  stair,  looking  through  the  open  door, 
white  cap,  white  ribbon  strings,  white  ker- 
chief, suggestive  of  immaculate  purity,  stood 
mother  Primrose. 

"I've  jest  been  to  your  ma's,  to  see  the 
calikers,  children,  and  I  took  a  notion  to 
come  over  here.  I've  been  a  wanting  to  come 
this  long  time.  Well,  bless  my  heart!  if  ever 
I  see  sech  little  dears  for  housekeeping!  I 
kinder  misgive  that  I  should  find  you  in 
heaps." 

"  We  never  get  in  heaps,  only  when  Phil 
comes  here,"  said  Cad.  "  He's  broken  the 
stove  once,  and  almost  killed  Petkin  with 
fright.  She  hasn't  got  over  palpitation  to 
this  day;  has  she,  Linda?" 

"Not  once,  poor  little  soul,"  echoed  Linda, 
gravely. 

Mother   Primrose   screwed    up   her  mouth. 

"  It  does  mind  me  of  Ben,"  she  continued  , 
after  she  had  tied  her  cap  strings  in  order 
to  drive  the  laugh  away. 


254      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Who  was  Ben?"  queried  Cad. 

"  He  were  miss  Lotty's  coachman,  dear, 
with  the  habits  and  manners  of  a  gentleman. 
Nobody  knowed  what  was  his  history,  for  he 
never  talked  about  himself,  but  everybody 
could  see  that  he  hadn't  been  intended  at  the 
first  for  a  servant.  Miss  Lotty  thought  a 
sight  of  him,  and  this  was  his  home ;  he 
wouldn't  sleep  at  the  house.  He  was  took 
sick  here,  and  miss  Lotty  had  him  carried  to 
the  house,  and  I  helped  nurse  him.  When 
he  died,  we  found  a  miniature  set  in  gold,  lying 
on  his  heart,  poor  dear,  the  picter  of  a  beauti- 
ful lady,  and  miss  Lotty  said  there  had  been 
diamonds  in  it;  and  no  gentleman  could  a 
looked  sweeter  and  nobler  than  he,  dear  soul, 
when  he  was  laid  out.  Miss  Lotty  took  the 
picter,  and  a  letter  he  had  left  with  all  his 
instructions,  and  sent  them  to  his  own  country 
in  England,  and  that's  all  I  know  about  it. 
Dears,  if  he  could  just  see  this  now,  how  it 
would  please  him,  sure.  He  kept  the  place 
like  a  pink,  jest  as  you  do. 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  255 

"Deary  me!  pots  and  pans  and  kittles — 
cups  and  sarcers  and  things.  Well  deare, 
your  ma  didn't  have  no  sech  when  she  was 
a  little  one.  I've  seen  her  often  a  playing  with 
bits  of  broken  chancy,  as  contented  as  a  little 
queen.  Miss  Lotty  didn't  understand  chil- 
dren, but  she  loved  'em,  bless  her!" 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?"  queried  Linda, 
bringing  a  chair  forward. 

"  Bless  your  polite  little  heart,  no.  I  left 
father  alone  with  the  rheumatiz — both  knees 
a  going.  I  wish  he  could  do  as  he  tells  me  to, 
poor  soul — take  it  easy,  but  pain's  apt  to  put 
one  out  o'  jint." 

"  We'll .  give  you  a  ride  when  we  get  our 
horse  and  carriage,"  said  Cad,  gravely;  "we've 
given  up  the  ponies." 

"  Given  up  the  ponies !"  said  mother  Prim- 
rose, standing  in  the  sunshine  again. 

"  Yes,  Cad  and  I  were  going  to  buy  ponies," 
chimed  in  Linda,  "but  uncle  said  we'd  better 
have  a  steady  going  horse  and  carriage." 

Good  Mrs.  Primrose  thought  it  was  all  in 


256      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  play — that  the  horse  and  carnage  were 
imaginary. 

"Thankee,  little  ones,  thankee,"  she  said, 
laughing,  "but  I  guess  I  should  be  too  heavy 
for  your  horse  and  kerrige." 

Fanny  came  down  breathless,  to  tell  the 
children  they  were  wanted. 

Such  bustle  and  confusion  as  there  was  at 
Redbow,  such  exclamations  and  asking  for 
things  !  Nobody  seemed  to  have  quite  hands 
and  fingers  enough.  Mrs.  Winfield  decked 
the  two  little  ones  in  their  India  muslins,  fine 
as  air,  Cad  said,  not  inaptly,  and  tied  their 
hair  with  the  lovely  rose-colored  ribbons. 

Then  Fanny  came  in  for  inspection.  She 
was  a  little  nervous,  and  fearful  that  her  dress 
did  not  fit  well,  but  her  anxiety  was  soon  set 
at  rest. 

"Don't  my  stockings  wrinkle?  There,  if 
there  isn't  a  hole  in  my  glove!  O,  dear  me, 
where  did  I  put  my  handkerchief!" 

"  It's  only  Fanny  that  ever  frets,"  said  Cad, 
sententiously. 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  257 

Fanny  wheeled  around  with  an  angry  frown, 
but  checked  herself  admirably.  She  turned 
a  little  red  as  she  answered,  pleasantly, 

"  I  believe  I  am,  Cad,  that's  a  fact  I  ought 
to  have  been  christened  Pepperpot" 

"We  eat  that,  in  India,"  said  Linda,  "and 
don't  it  bite?" 

"Just  as  I  do,  when  I'm  ugly,"  laughed 
Fanny. 

"You're  not  ugly,"  said  Linda,  reflectively; 
"you're  only — " 

"Cross,"  suggested  blunt  Cad. 

"  Nervous,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  smiling. 

"Is  nervousness  a  disease?"  asked  Fanny. 

"Yes,  dear;  but  patience,  taken  in  large 
quantities,  will  cure  it." 

Fanny  smiled;  she  was  all  right  now.  Per- 
haps she  was  trying  to  forget  the  number  of 
times  she  had  conquered  herself.  What  was 
the  use  of  counting,  when  she  was  trying  in 
such  earnest? 

Kate   entered   next,   looking   as   fresh   and 
sweet  as  a  white  rose. 
17 


258      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"I  thought  pink  would  be  pretty  for  a  sash. 
What  do  you  say,  mamma?" 

Mrs.  Winfield,  for  answer,  opened  a  drawer 
in  the  old-fashioned  bureau  near  her,  and  drew 
out  the  loveliest  black  silk  overskirt  and  bre- 
telles,  perfectly  made  and  exquisitely  trimmed. 
To  see  the  faces  of  the  little  folks  then,  was 
a  study. 

"This,  for  me!"  cried  Kate,  breathless  with 
astonishment. 

"  O,  isn't  it  perfect !"  exclaimed  Fanny,  de- 
lighted. "Kate,  you  are  a  young  lady  in  that; 
nobody  would  think  of  calling  you  a  girl. 
Doesn't  she  look  charming?  I'm  so  glad!" 

"  But  is  it  really  for  me  ?"  asked  Kate  again, 
looking  at  her  pretty  reflection  in  the  glass. 

"Yes,  dear,  it  is  for  you;  a  reward  of  merit." 

"But  what  for?    I  never  expected  it." 

"Of  course  you  didn't." 

"And  that  makes  it  all  the  nicer,  don't  it?" 
echoed  Cad,  dancing  around  her. 

"  This  is  real  lace,  too.  I  never  wore  any 
thing  half  so  beautiful  before.  O,  mamma, 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  259 

how  I  thank  you !  you  are  always  doing 
something  nice  for  us."  There  were  tears  in 
Kate's  eyes. 

"  I  always  said  she  was  an  angel !"  cried 
Cad,  and  regardless  of  mull  as  'fine  as  air,'  she 
gave  her  mother  a  hearty  hug. 

"  I  guess  we'll  all  look  as  well  as  anybody," 
said  Linda,  complacently. 

"  No  matter  how  we  look,"  said  Cad,  loftily, 
"if  we  only  behave  well.  The  times  I  have  to 
tell  Felice  that,  she  is  so  vain !" 

"  Of  course  we'll  behave  well,"  said  Linda, 
"don't  we  do  that  at  home?" 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  observe  here,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  big  as  well  as  little  folks,  that 
company  behavior  is  generally  the  transcript 
of  home-manners. 

The  carriage  came,  and  Ross  made  his 
appearance  on  the  scene.  Phil  had  begged 
off,  saying  that  he  didn't  want  to  go  to  a  girl's 
party;  but  as  fishing  was  interdicted,  poor  Phil 
wandered  about  disconsolately,  finding  time 
hanging  heavily  on  his  hands. 


260      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

A  beautiful  open  carriage  had  been  sent  for 
them.  Ross  sat  beside  the  driver,  and  talked 
crops,  for  the  driver  was  quite  an  intelligent 
farmer.  The  little  girls  held  their  parasols 
primly  for  a  time,  but  they  soon  grew  tired, 
and  putting  off  city  airs,  as  Cad  called  them, 
they  enjoyed  the  fine  scenery  and  the  delicious 
atmosphere. 

At  last  they  came  in  sight  of  extensive 
grounds  well  laid  out,  and  surrounding  a  fine 
white  mansion,  on  the  piazza  of  which  stood 
several  girls  in  groups. 

"  Isn't  it  ^/-egant?"  whispered  Cad. 

"Yes;  O  dear,  there's  a  marquee!"  whis- 
pered Linda. 

"Do  you  mean  the  big  tent?" 

"  Yes,  papa  had  one  in  his  garden  when  he 
had  grand  company." 

"What  a  lovely  green  lawn!"  Fanny  said 
to  Kate;  "but  dear  me,  I'm  afraid  I'm  nervous 
again.  They  are  all  strangers  to  us." 

"  But  they  won't  be,  by  and  by." 

Presently  the   lady   of  the   mansion   came 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  261 

out,  quite  delighted  to  see  them.  They  were 
taken  to  the  dressing-rooms,  and  afterwards 
introduced  to  the  daughters,  the  eldest,  Mar- 
cia,  being  near  Kate's  age. 

How  often  the  expressive  word  "^/-egant" 
escaped  Cad's  lips,  I  am  unable  to  say,  but 
certain  it  is,  the  enjoyment  of  that  afternoon 
was  absolutely  perfect.  The  games  were 
various  and  delightful.  All  were  allowed  to 
help  themselves  to  the  fruit  which  grew  in 
abundance  and  within  reach.  There  was 
music  indoor  and  out,  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
dark  the  grounds  were  brilliantly  lighted,  and 
supper  served  on  long  tables  under  the  illu- 
minated marquee. 

"I  never  had  so  delightful  a  time  in  my 
life,"  said  Kate  to  Marcia  Baker,  as  they  wan- 
dered in  the  moonlight  on  the  borders  of  a 
tiny  sheet  of  water,  where  a  fountain  threw 
its  fairy-like  spray  at  their  feet.  Kate  found 
in  Marcia  a  kindred  spirit,  and  Kate  was  a 
girl  after  Marcia's  own  heart. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  enjoyed  yourself,  but 


262      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

mamma  has  been  telling  us  what  a  beautiful 
home  you  have,  right  under  the  mountain. 
She  quite  fell  in  love  with  it" 

"  Yes,  we  have  a  pleasant  home,"  replied 
Kate,  her  heart  swelling  at  thought  of  all  its 
sweet  domestic  comforts.  "Our  house  is 
smaller  than  this;  this  is  more  like  the  city 
home  we  used  to  have  before  papa — "  Her 
cheeks  tingled,  but  she  had  gone  too  far,  and 
was  too  honest  to  retract — "  before  papa  failed," 
she  added,  resolutely. 

"  But  you  wouldn't  wish  to  go  back  to  the 
city  again!  We  are  going  to  make  a  trial  of 
this  place  for  one  year.  Won't  we  have  grand 
times  in  winter,  though;  better  than  parties  or 
concerts,  /  think." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  sister  Fanny  so," 
said  Kate. 

"Don't  she  like  Redbow?" 

"Not  as  well  as  the  city." 

They  turned  and  saw  Fanny  with  her  arm 
around  Nelly  Baker's  waist  Nelly  Baker's 
arm  was  around  hers. 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  263 

"If  she  is  talking  with  Nelly,  she  is  hearing 
all  about  it,"  said  Marcia,  laughing  "  Nelly 
is  even  more  in  love  with  the  country  than  I 
am.  Papa  is .  the  only  one  who  has  doubts. 
If  he  could  get  a  good  teacher  here,  he  says 
he  should  know  just  what  to  do." 

"  Mamma  is  our  teacher,"  said  Kate  proudly. 

"  How  pleasant  that  must  be !  We  have  a 
governess,  and  she  is  good,  but  so  prim  and 
old-fashioned." 

"  You  will  certainly  come  over  to  Redbow 
and  see  us?"  said  Kate. 

"Just  as  soon  as  possible.  Mamma  is  so 
pleased  to  think  you  are  near  us;  she  often 
talks  about  it." 

As  the  little  folks  of  Redbow  rode  home 
that  night,  under  the  silvery  beams  of  the 
moon,  that  sent  its  troops  of  sprites  into  every 
hedge  and  under  every  tree,  to  make  the 
shadows  dance  and  the  leaves  glisten,  they 
voted  that  never  in  the  palmiest  days  of  their 
city  experience  had  they  enjoyed  themselves 
so  much. 


264      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

Arrived  at  Redbow,  it  was  all  the  mother 
could  do  to  get  them  to  their  bed-rooms. 
Then  each  ran  back  for  a  kiss,  and  to  thank 
her  for  contributing  so  much  to  their  pleasure; 
and  I  doubt  if  she  was  not  a  little  happier 
than  they. 

Meantime,  while  they  had  been  enjoying 
themselves  at  the  party,  Phil  had  wandered 
about,  playing  now  with  Boze,  the  great  Prim- 
rose farm  dog,  now  having  a  chat  with  the 
good-natured  old  man  himself.  Then  Mrs. 
Winfield  made  him  some  of  his  favorite  cake 
for  supper,  after  which  he  joined  in  a  frolic 
with  Prince  Charlie,  and  then  went  early  to 
bed. 

"It  seems  too  bad  to  keep  him  so  long  from 
the  river,"  said  his  mother,  after  he  had  left 
the  room ;  "the  poor  little  fellow  does  enjoy 
his  fishing-sport  so  much.  I  am  afraid  you 
are  a  little  too  hard  on  Phil." 

"  He  must  learn  to  be  obedient,"  said  Mr. 
Winfield,  laying  down  his  book.  "  There  are 
certain  traits  in  his  character,  that,  without 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  265 

sedulous  watching,  will  be  sure  to  crop  out 
into  the  vices  that  destroy  so  many  half-grown 
boys." 

"I  differ  with  you  a  little,"  said  his  wife, 
gently;  "I  think  Phil  has  very  noble  traits 
underlying  his  very  faults,  even.  You  know 
I  have  him  under  my  eye,  and  can  more 
leisurely  read  him." 

Mr.  Winfield  moved  uneasily. 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  my  dear;  but  I  am 
afraid  to  relax  my  discipline.  Phil  must  not 
fish  this  month  at  all  events.  He  must  have 
a  lesson  that  will  stand  by  him." 

The  outer  door-bell  rang,  and  the  old  mill 
carpenter,  as  he  was  called,  came  in,  on  busi- 
ness. 

"  How's  that  boy  o'  yourn  ?"  asked  the  old 
man,  after  other  matters  had  been  attended  to. 

"Which  boy?"  asked  Mr.  Winfield;  "you 
know  I  have  two  sons." 

"  Yes,  yes,  now  I  member ;  there's  two  of 
'em ;  the  tall  un,  and  the  little  un.  Well, 
'twas  the  little  un  as  fished  our  Jem  out  o'  the 


266      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

river.  The  youngster'd  been  gone  a  while, 
and  had  toddled  down  to  the  east  side,  by  the 
bend,  when  his  ma  missed  him.  I  felt  despitly 
sorry  bout  them  shoes,  but  Rove,  my  little 
dog,  got  'em  day  after,  an'  he  has  a  habit  o' 
hidin  things,  but  bless  you,  they  was  just 
spiled.  I  calc'late  you'll  hev  to  take  them 
outen  my  pay  for  work." 

Mr.  Winfield  caught  his  wife's  eye,  and  grew 
red. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand,"  he  said.  "  The 
boy  came  home  without  his  shoes,  and  con- 
fessed that  he  had  gone  in  swimming." 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  the  old  farmer  with  a  grim 
smile,  "sh'd  think  he  did;  went  swimming 
down  the  crick  for  that  little  wollopog,  or  he'd 
been  a  gone  Jemmy,  that's  sartain.  His 
mother,  that's  my  darter,  took  on  terrible, 
even  after  the  baby  was  brought  to  her,  safn 
well;  an'  she'll  never  forgit  that  boy  o'  yourn, 
you  bet!" 

It  was  homely  language,  but  it  stirred  the 
father's  heart  within  him  as  it  had  never  been 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  267 

stirred  before.  Mrs.  Winfield  silently  arose 
and  hurried  from  the  room.  Direct  to  Phil's 
chamber  she  bent  her  steps,  and  .found  him 
placidly  watching  the  moon,  with  his  arms 
thrown  over  his  head  and  his  hands  clasped. 
With  her  eyes  blurred  with  tears,  she  bent 
over  and  kissed  him.  Boy  fashion  he  blurted 
out, 

"What's  that  for?" 

"  For  that  brave,  brave  deed  of  yours,  you 
naughty  boy,"  she  said,  chokingly.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  papa  that  you  saved  little 
Jemmy,  down  at  the  old  mill  ?  And  here  you 
have  been  punished  all  this  time  for  nothing." 

"  Well,  didn't  he  ask  me  if  I  went  in  swim- 
ming? So  I  did,"  he  added,  with  a  boyish 
chuckle. 

"You  are  my  brave,  noble  boy!"  said  his 
mother,  one  or  two  tears  falling  on  his  hand. 
"And  I  am  sure  your  father  thinks  so  too. 
But  you  should  have  told  the  whole." 

"  Someway — I — couldn't,"  said  Phil,  pulling 
at  the  counterpane.  "Who  told  you?" 


268      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"The  old  carpenter  himself." 

"  Did  he  bring  home  my  shoes  ?"  asked 
Phil,  eagerly. 

"No,  dear;  he  said  they  were  spoiled. 
Suppose  you  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"It  isn't  any  thing  to  tell,"  said  Phil,  reluct- 
antly. "  I  was  fishing,  you  know,  and  had 
caught  three  pike,  big  fellows!  That  little 
Jemmy  had  been  fooling  round  with  the  dog, 
and  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  him.  But 
I'd  just  bated  my  hook,  when  I  heard  some- 
body screaming  like  mad,  and  the  carpenter's 
daughter  was  outside  the  red  cottage,  crying 
'murder!'  and  that  Jemmy  was  drowned. 
Well  you  see,  just  then  I  caught  sight  of  his 
white  head,  bobbing  opposite  the  bend ;  so  I 
off  with  my  things — I  tell  you  I  never  did  get 
'em  off  quite  so  quick  before — -and  in  I  went. 
It  was  straighter  to  swim  from  there  than  go 
round  the  bend,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Winfield  nodded  yes  to  his  intelligent 
glance. 

"I  thought   I  never  should   reach    him;  it 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  269 

even  seemed  as  if  the  water  pushed  me  back; 
but  I  did.  If  I  didn't  ketch  him  by  that  tow 
head  of  his!"  Phil  chuckled  again — "and  then 
I  made  for  the  bank."  Phil  looked  at  the 
moon  for  a  moment.  "Twasn't  any  thing;  a 
dog  could  have  done  it,"  he  added. 

"But  a  dog  didn't  do  it;  it  was  our  Phil, 
who  saved  a  dear  little  girl's  canary  once  from 
roasting  alive." 

"  Wouldn't  it  have  made  a  jolly  little  roast, 
though  ?" 

It  was  a  touch  of  boy-nature,  and  Mrs. 
Winfield  smiled. 

"What  did  the  child's  mother  say?" 

"  She  couldn't  say  much,"  returned  PJiil, 
with  a  wry  face,  "but  she  kissed  me;"  and 
Phil  wiped  his  lips — "took  advantage  of  a 
fellow,  when  he  was  down.  She  screamed 
enough  when  she  had  got  him  in  the  house, 
though.  Now  what  did  she  do  that  for?" 

"The  danger  all  came  up  before  her,  I 
suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"Well,   all    I    hope    is    that   Jemmy   won't 


270      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

come  round  me  while  I'm  fishing,"  was  the 
rejoinder. 

"And  so  you  see  you  have  been  unjustly 
punished.  If  we  had  known  this,  your  father 
would  have  been  prouder  of  you  than  ever, 
and  you  wouldn't  have  lost  your  sport." 

"  O,  I'll  make  that  all  up,"  said  hardy  Phil.- 
"  I  'spose  father  thought  he  was  doing  right 
enough." 

"Good-night,  Phil." 

"  Good-night — mother." 

Though  she  knew  the  boy  loved  her,  her 
ears  were  seldom  greeted  by  the  word  mother 
from  his  lips. 

She  went  down  stairs  with  a  full  heart. 
The  old  carpenter  had  gone;  Mr.  Winfield 
sat  in  a  brown  study. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  as  she  entered,  "that 
"boy  of  ours  is  a  very  remarkable  child — a  re- 
markable child,  upon  my  word.  Strangely 
reticent — I  am  not  sure  but  I  shall  have  to 
discipline  him  for  his  secretiveness,"  he  added, 
laughing. 


What  Came  of  Phil's  Swimming.  271 

Mrs.  Winfield  smiled,  but  she  saw  that  his 
eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"You  are  a  better  judge  of  boys  than  I  am, 
my  dear,  after  all,"  he  said  a  moment  after. 
"  Why  really,  there's  something  very  noble 
about  that  little  son  of  mine.  I  won't  be  so 
rash  another  time." 

At  the  breakfast  table  on  the  following 
morning,  Mr.  Winfield  asked  Phil  if  he  would 
like  to  go  fishing. 

The  boy  turned  scarlet 

"  Next  time  you  fish  out  Jemmy,"  added 
his  father,  "I — I'll  excuse  you — for  swim- 
ming." The  strong  man  could  hardly  speak 
the  words,  his  lips  quivered  so.  Phil  kept 
his  eyes  on  his  breakfast — the  children  stared, 
but  at  a  sign  from  Mrs.  Winfield,  forbore  to 
notice  the  boy.  They  knew  soon  enough, 
however,  and  for  the  second  time  in  his  life, 
Phil  was  nearly  killed  by  kindness. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WHAT'S     IN      A     GARRET1? 

11  The  quaintest,  queerest,  crookedest  old  things, 
Headless  and  footless,  without  hands  or  wings; 
Sacred  to  cobwebs  and  to  waspish  stings." 

GOLDEN  day  in  September!     The 
sun  making  the  atmosphere  so  ten- 
derly warm — divesting  it  of  the  chill 
that  renders  the  first  days  of  fall  so 
uncomfortable:  the  brown  earth  dry  and  crisp, 
the  air  filled  with  the  perfume  of  dried  clover, 
the    trees    crowned    and    crowded    with    ripe 
black  burs,  that  yielded  lightly  to  the  touch 
of  the  slender  poles  in  slender  fingers — it  was, 
take  it  all  together,  a  day  to  be  remembered. 
A  good-natured,  easy  going,  rather  sleepy 
horse,  had  brought  the  little  folks  of  Redbow 
272 


What's  in  a   Garret?  273 

to  Walnut  Grove.  All  but  nurse,  whose  Eng- 
lish feet  spurned  the  idea  of  riding  when  one 
could  walk.  She  declared,  that  for  her  part 
ten  miles  was  nothing. 

They  brought  dinner  in  a  basket  tied  to  the 
baby's  small  carriage,  home-made  bread  and 
butter,  and  cold  roast-chicken,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  luscious  jellies,  sweet  milk,  and  brown 
bread. 

When  at  last,  happily  wearied  with  their 
frolic-labor,  they  packed  again  into  the  old 
wagon,  nuts  and  all,  and  on  regaining  home 
found  a  great  fire  of  pine  knots  blazing  in  the 
parlor,  and  the  cat  stretched  before  it,  winking 
and  blinking  as  was  her  wont,  they  felt  as  if 
the  day  had  rounded  into  perfect  symmetry. 

Ross  and  Phil  unharnessed  and  led  Cainty 
to  her  stable.  Dainty  was  the  name  bestowed 
upon  this  useful  but  not  graceful  animal  by 
the  little  girls.  After  many  a  consultation  it 
was  thought  better  to  purchase  a  good  family 
horse  with  Linda's  money,  for  a  horse  the 
little  girl  had  set  her  heart  upon. 
18 


274      TJie  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Phil  often  rode  Dainty  to  water.  Ross  and 
he  undertook  his  entire  management.  .  The 
fields  had  given  a  fine  yield  of  hay,  and  the 
barn  was  full.  Corn  had  been  sent  to  the  old 
mill,  and  ground  into  the  brightest  of  yellow 
meal.  The  wheat  had  been  threshed  by  com- 
petent hands,  and  they  were  beginning  at 
Redbow  to  taste  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  inde- 
pendence. 

"Ross,  was  there  a  frost  last  night?"  asked 
Cad,  one  morning,  looking  wistfully  toward 
the  oval  window,  that  had  broken  out  into 
forests  and  temples  of  fairy  proportions. 

"Yes,  dear;  a  hard  frost." 

Cad's  face  grew  very  grave.  She  exchanged 
glances  with  Linda. 

"  Why,  little  one  ?"  asked  Ross,  pinching 
her  cheeks. 

Cad  crouched  nearer  to  the  fire,  as  she 
answered : 

"  It  was  a  bit  cold  over  at  the  barn  yester- 
day, and  mamma  said  we  could  not  go  there 
after  frost  came ;  but  its  so  sunny  and  nice !" 


What's  in  a  Garret?  275 

"  O,  the  play-house,  eh !  That's  where 
the  trouble  is.  What  shall  we  do  about  it, 
mother  ?  These  busy  little  folks  musn't  lose 
their  housekeeping." 

Cad  turned  to  mamma;  Mrs.  Winfield 
looked  a  little  serious. 

"  It  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  give  up  the 
nursery,"  she  said.  "  I  wonder  if  we  can't  do 
something  with  the  old  garret?" 

Cad  brightened,  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Yes,  it  might  easily  be  floored,"  said  Ross; 
"the  carpenter  will  leave  his  mill,  I  guess, 
long  enough  to  do  that.  He'd  do  anything 
for  Phil." 

"Hush  up!"  said  Phil  in  a  low  voice. 

"But  how  shall  we  warm  it?"  asked  her 
mother. 

"  Put  a  drum  in,  and  heat  it  by  the  nursery 
stove." 

"Yes,  that  will  do,  Ross,  you/ re  a  capital 
contriver." 

"Ross,  you  are  sp-1-endid!"  echoed  Cad, 
her  little  face  as  radiant  as  clear  sunshine. 


276      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  We  won't  care  for  frost,  now,"  said  Linda ; 
"and  how  we  have  been  worrying  about  it, 
haven't  we,  Cad?" 

"  It  just  nearly  made  me  sick,"  was  Cad's 
reply. 

The  carpenter  was  brought  that  same  day, 
but  not  before  the  old  place  had  been 
thoroughly  explored,  and  every  nook  and 
cranny  exposed  to  the  light  from  the  large 
end-windows,  that  good  nurse  volunteered  to 
cleanse  from  their  grime  and  matted  cobwebs. 

And  what  a  hiding-place  it  proved  to  be,  to 
be  sure!  Three  or  four  spinning-wheels,  ages 
old,  occupied  a  corner.  One  of  them  was 
quaintly  and  delicately  carved,  and  had  in  its 
day  been  as  beautiful  as  useful. 

"  Please  let  them  stay,"  Cad  pleaded,  "  be- 
cause then  we  can  play  '  we  are  our  grand- 
mothers," and  have  such  good  times  spinning." 

Fanny  found  an  assortment  of  old  calashes, 
that  when  the  sun  first  saw  them  had  rejoiced 
in  a  green  as  lively  as  the  grass  they  tripped 
over. 


What's  in  a  Garret?  277 

"It's  a  chaise-bonnet,"  said  the  children, 
and  forthwith  every  one  donned  one,  looking 
like  so  many  dusky  perambulators  on  legs. 

Old  clocks,  almost  dropping  to  pieces ;  old 
hoods,  flecked  with  the  cotton  that  had  burst 
through;  stacks  of  shoes,  very  dainty  as  to  size; 
files  of  mouldy  newspapers — books  of  a  for- 
gotten period — the  heavy-light-literature  of 
former  youthful  minds ;  even  broken  dolls  of 
uncouth  woodenliness — baby  carts  and  anti- 
quated little  wardrobes  falling  to  dust — these 
were  among  the  treasures  they  found. 

Three  clocks  were  set  going,  and  an  old 
music-box  dropped  broken  bits  of  harmony 
on  being  well  shaken.  There  were  tea-pots 
without  noses,  and  sugar-bowls  minus  rims; 
two  warming  pans  with  crooked  handles; 
numerous  skillets  lame  in  the  legs,  crouching 
in  the  dark  amid  spider  webs  and  the  accumu- 
lated dust  of  half  a  hundred  years;  barrels 
of  torn  paper  and  mutilated  books  filled  up 
one  end  of  the  long  garret ;  also  useless  tables 
and  musty  smelling  chests. 


278      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

"I  have  found  some  pictures!"  cried  Cad. 
They  were  silhouettes  of  some  dead  and  gone 
ancestor — black,  sharp-featured  faces,  ruffled 
about  the  neck  with  Queen  Elizabeth  frills, 
and  encased  in  gilt  frames,  once  bright  and 
pretty;  sacred  mementos,  it  might  be,  of 
some  antique  beauty 

"  We  must  have  these  framed  again,  I  think, 
and  hung  in  the  parlor,"  said  Mr.  Winfield. 

Fanny  was  looking  at  them,  quite  lost  in  a 
brown  study.  Then  she  nodded  her  curly 
head,  emphatically,  and  a  strange  glow  suffused 
her  face.  Presently  she  disappeared,  and  in 
a  little  while  returned,  smiling  and  triumphant 

"Does  this  look  like  it,  mamma?"  she 
asked,  holding  up  a  fac-simile  of  the  little 
black  picture. 

"  Why  it  is  it,  isn't  it  ?  No,  it  is  fresher 
and  whiter — why,  where  did  you  find  it,  my 
dear  ?" 

"I  made  it,  mamma,  all  myself,"  said  Fanny, 
her  face  shining. 

"You  made  it,  Fanny?" 


WhaCs  in  a  Garret?  279 

"Yes  indeed,  I  did,  mamma.  When  I  was 
looking  at  these,  it  seemed  to  come  to  me  all 
at  once  that  I  could  do  it,  too.  So  I  took  my 
embroidery  scissors,  and  cut  it  out,  just  as 
easy !" 

"Why  Fanny!"  exclaimed  her  mother  in 
unfeigned  astonishment.  "I  am  really  very 
much  surprised,  and  pleased  too,  at  this  evi- 
dence of  your  genius." 

"Genius — O!  mother,  do  you  think  it  is 
genius?"  asked  Fanny,  breathlessly. 

"  What  else  can  it  be,  little  daughter,  if  you 
have  done  it  in  those  few  moments?  The 
outlines  are  as  perfect  as  they  well  can  be,  and 
for  you,  or  any  one,  to  do  it  without  hint  or 
instruction,  seems  to  me  quite  wonderful." 

"Mamma,  I'll  do  much  better  than  that 
sometime,"  said  Fanny,  proud  and  delighted. 
"Perhaps  that's  why  I've  always  been  so 
nervous,"  she  added  naively — "I've  needed 
something  of  this  kind  to  do." 

Many  more  curious  little  mementos  were 
unearthed  during  the  cleaning  out  process, 


280      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

and  at  last  the  boards  were  laid,  soap  and 
water  freely  applied  to  floor  and  windows, 
pieces  of  carpet  laid  down,  and  everything 
accomplished,  in  readiness  for  the  flitting  of 
Cad's  house,  dolls  and  their  wardrobes. 

At  last  the  little  folks  were  installed,  and  so 
delighted  were  they  with  their  new  quarters 
that  it  was  a  week  before  they  could  settle 
down  to  sober,  quiet  enjoyment.  The  great 
garret  was  divided  into  several  rooms — kitchen, 
spare  bed-room,  parlor  and  sitting-room.  The 
spare  room  contained  Petkin's  high-posted, 
a  chair  and  a  rickety  table;  but  the  crowning 
beauty  of  this  room  was  the  great  flowered 
muslin  curtain  at  the  window,  looped  with  red 
cord,  and  hung  with  a  gorgeous  pair  of  crim- 
son tassels. 

One  day  Fanny  appeared  in  the  garret  with 
a  mysterious  manner,  and  face  full  of  thought. 

"Cad,  may  I  have  a  corner  here,  some- 
where?" she  asked. 

"What  for?"  queried  Cad. 

"O,  for  something.     Won't  you  tell?  and 


What's  in  a  Garret?  281 

might  I  come  up  here  a  little  while  every  day, 
if  I  let  you  know  ?" 

Cad  looked  serious.  Linda  and  she  had 
grown  a  little  selfish  in  their  pleasant  seclu- 
sion. 

"Is  it  a  very  great  secret?"  asked  Linda. 

"Yes,  very,"  replied  Fanny;  "at  least  I 
think  so." 

"Must  you  use  our  things  much?" 

"  Don't  want  anything  but  a  table." 

"Would  you,   Linda?" 

Linda  gave  an  acquiescing  nod. 

"You  can  make-believe  you  hire  and  pay 
rent,  you  know." 

"Very  well!" 

"But  you  had  had  ought  to  tell  us  what 
you  are  going  to  do." 

"Had  ought!" 

"Well,  ought  to,  then." 

"  I'm  going  to  make  faces — out  of  clay." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  Cad  experienced  an  abate- 
ment of  interest.  "Pho!  who  couldn't?" 

"We   couldn't,    Cad,"  said  Linda.     "I  am 


282      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

sure  we  couldn't,  but  you  know  Fanny  is  a 
genius;  mamma  said  so." 

"Well  then,  if  she's  a  genius,  I  suppose 
we  must  let  her  have  our  spare  bed-room. 
You're  standing  right  in  it,  Fanny,  and  there's 
the  table,"  said  Cad ;  "  only  you  musn't  clut- 
ter." 

"I  won't  clutter,"  said  Fanny. 

"Nor  make  fun  of  us." 

"Never!"  replied  Fanny,  biting  her  lips. 

"When  are  you   going  to  begin?" 

"To-morrow.  I  shall  bring  some  clay,  some 
old  newspapers,  and  a  basket." 

"That's  nasty  dirt,"  said  Cad,  with  a  wry 
face. 

"  I'll  keep  it  very  clean,"  said  Fanny,  "  and 
you  needn't  mind  me,  but  go  on  with  your 
housekeeping  just  the  same." 

"Very  well,"  said  Cad,  pinning  one  side 
of  a  doll's  petticoat  down  to  her  knee;  "only 
it  won't  be  as  pleasant  to  have  folks  round." 

"  O,  we  shan't  mind,"  said  Linda — "  only  if 
the  children  cry !" 


What's  in  a   Garret?  283 

Not  long  after  this  conversation  Fanny  was 
busy  in  the  spare  bed-room,  draping  a  sheet 
between  the  children  and  her  studio,  in  order 
to  ease  their  minds  and  give  herself  more 
privacy.  Water  and  clay,  and  all  the  requi- 
site tools  at  her  command,  were  then  brought 
secretly  up  stairs,  and  she  was  soon  busy  over 
the  wet  clay. 

Mrs.  Winfield  saw  by  her  altered  face  and 
manner  that  she  had  a  secret,  and  half-guessed 
what  it  was,  but  said  nothing,  so  Fanny  was 
allowed  to  go  her  own  way.  It  was  delightful 
to  see  how  completely  the  little  girl  was 
changing  in  appearance  and  in  character. 
The  sallow  tints  disappeared  from  her  face; 
she  smiled  oftener,  fretted  less,  lost  the 
nervous  disquiet  that  had  made  her  so 
unlovely,  and  most  wonderful  change  of  all, 
seemed  quite  contented. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

6PORTS    AT     REDBOW. 

"  There  is  in  life  no  blessing  like  affection, 
It  soothes,  it  hallows,  elevates,  subdues, 
And  bringeth  down  to  earth  its  native  heaven, 
Life  has  naught  else  that  may  supply  its  place." 

ARCIA  BAKER  and  her  sisters  had 
visited  at  Redbow,  playing   croquet 
on   the   Primrose    lawn,    and   fallen 
in  love   with  everybody,  from    Mrs. 
Winfield  to  baby  and  baby's  nurse. 

Since  then,  Fanny  had  never  once  been 
heard  to  mourn  after  the  vanished  pleasures 
of  city  life.  She  kept  her  secret  well.  Her 
time  for  work  was  generally  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  she  spent  an  hour  upon  her  clay. 
With  a  patience  that  for  her  was  wonderful, 
she  moulded  and  remoulded.  Failure  did  not 
284 


Sports  at  Redbow.  285 

discourage  her;  her  heart  was  in  the  work; 
she  was  bent  upon  surprising  her  father. 

One  golden  day  the  object  of  her  ambition 
was  attained.  She  had,  with  the  help  of  a 
photograph,  fashioned  rudely,  but  strikingly, 
the  face  of  Mr.  Winfield.  The  expression  was 
nearly  perfect,  and  faults  in  the  minor  details 
were  not  sufficiently  apparent  to  injure  the 
work.  It  really  was  a  triumph  for  a  girl 
(quite  unassisted,  except  by  books)  of  Fanny's 
age. 

With  genuine  delight  she  contemplated 
her  task,  her  heart  swelling  with  love  and 
satisfied  ambition.  She  did  not  know  the 
value  of  the  gift  which  God  had  bestowed 
upon  her,  which  had  been  slumbering  so  long, 
and  awakened  so  suddenly.  If  she  might 
please  her  parents  and  enjoy  her  one  talent, 
that  was  all  she .  asked  for  as  yet. 

The  little  bust  was  privately  exhibited,  and 
pronounced  perfect.  Ross  seemed  particularly 
delighted,  and  could  not  praise  it  enough.  He 
went  immediately  to  look  over  his  small 


286      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

collection  of  books,  and  brought  her  one, 
embodying  a  great  deal  of  definite  knowledge 
on  the  subject  of  Sculpture.  Fanny  plunged 
into  it,  and  found  its  pages  more  fascinating 
than  the  best  story-book  she  had  ever  read. 

When  papa  Winfield  came  home  on  Satur- 
day, and  the  little  clay  statuette  was  presented 
to  him,  he  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence 
of  his  senses. 

"What,  our  little  Fanny!"  he  kept  ex- 
claiming— "why  Fanny,  are  you  going  to  be 
famous  some  day?  Who  taught  you,  child? 
I  did  not  know  you  cared  for  such  things." 
"  I  never  knew  it  myself,"  said  Fanny, 
modestly.  "  I  think  it  all  came  to  me,  one 
day." 

"  She  hires  a  room  in  my  house,"  spoke  up 
Cad,  "but  she's  very  neat,  and  don't  clutter." 

"Well,  well;  only  don't  let  your  little  head 
get  turned,  my  child;  you  have  certainly 
developed  an  extraordinary  faculty,  and  I 
suppose  are  to  be  henceforth  considered  the 
genius  of  the  family." 


Sports  at  Redbow.  287 

Among  them  all,  no  one  was  more  delighted 
than  Kate.  Not  one  twinge  of  envy  assailed 
her  honest  heart.  How  many  kisses  she  had 
mingled  with  her  congratulations,  I  dare  not 
say. 

"You  see  now,  what  our  coming  to  grand 
old  Redbow  has  done,"  she  said.  "  I  always 
felt  there  was  something  wonderful  in  the 
atmosphere  of  this  place.  Who  knows  what 
inspiration  may  come  to  me;  your  gift  was 
developed  all  at  once;  wait  till  I  get  mine, 
and  maybe  I'll  astonish  you  all." 

"I  hope  you  will,"  said  Fanny. 
"But  haven't  I  done  so  already?  You 
mould  faces  and  I  mould  jellies;  one  is  at  least 
as  useful  as  the  other.  You  will  bake  clay,  and 
I'll  bake  cake;  perhaps  1  am  as  happy  in  the 
kitchen  as  you  are  in  the  studio." 

Now  came  the  long,  delightful  winter  even- 
ings, when  the  snow-drifts  softly  crept  up  to 
the  base  of  the  great  oval  window,  and  even 
looked  in  on  a  picture  of  domestic  beauty 
and  household  comfort. 


288      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Mr.  Winfield  now  came  from  the  city  twice 
a  week,  unless  detained  by  unusual  storms, 
and  no  happier  gathering  ever  took  place 
about  a  round  table,  before  a  brilliant  fire, 
than  that  which  made  Redbow  parlor  a  little 
paradise. 

One  evening  when  Mr.  Winfield  was  absent, 
they  had  drawn  up  about  their  favorite  amuse- 
ments, when  Phil  demurred  at  a  proposed 
game  of  chess. 

"I'm  tired  of  chess,  and  checkers  and  back- 
gammon, and  all  sorts  of  games,"  he  said, 
yawning.  "Couldn't  we  have  croquet?" 

"If  it  wasn't  for  the  chairs  and  tables,  dear," 
his  mother  responded.  "Besides,  you  could 
not  put  the  wickets  down." 

"  The  Bakers  have  a  table  game.  I  wish  we 
had,"  said  Fanny. 

"That  costs  money,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"Yes,  fifty  dollars  for  one  like  that." 

Ross  looked  up  from  his  book.  "I  think 
we  might  get  one  up,  less  forty-nine." 

"The  table?"  said  Kate. 


Sports  at  Redbow.  289 

"  Our  dining-table,  of  course." 

"Yes,  but  we  eat  off  that,"  said  Cad,  stitch- 
ing away  at  a  small  bit  of  dress-making. 

"That  won't  be  in  the  way,"  said  Ross.  "I 
could  manage  it — let  me  think." 

"Asia's  a  queer  shape,"  said  Phil,  who  liked 
the  globes  better  than  any  play.  "  I'll  go  there 
some  day  to  see  my  uncle — I'd  like  to  go  all 
over  the  world." 

"Go  with  me  when  I'm  a  grown  young 
lady,"  said  Linda,  looking  up  from  the  watch- 
guard  she  had  been  busy  making  for  several 
days,  a  gift  for  uncle.  "Then  we  can  ride  on 
elephants,  and  hunt  tigers  in  the  jungle.  I 
expect  it's  great  fun  to  kill  tigers." 

"And  suppose  they  kill  you." 

"Yes,  they  do;  one  of  papa's  men  was  killed. 
They  went  to  some  village  where  the  tiger 
had  been  doing  lots  of  cruel  things,  and  Sin- 
gar  was  torn  all  to  pieces.  I  cried — he  was 
very  good  to  me,  and  brought  me  nice  fruit 
whenever  he  came  to  the  house." 

"Wouldn't   you    like   to    go    to    England, 
19 


290      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Master  Phil?"  asked  nurse,  who  had  varied 
her  occupation  so  far  as  to  substitute  blue  for 
crimson  yarn.  "It's  a  beautiful  place  is  Lon- 
don, full  of  castles  and  lords  and  ladies,  and 
the  street-shows,  and  the  tower,  and  every 
thing  worth  seeing.  There's  fountings  in 
Trafalgar  square,  and  St.  Paul's  churchyard 
full  of  beautiful  silks  and  laces,  and  the  gentry 
always  stopping  with  their  carriages,  and 
buying  them." 

"Silks  in  St.  Paul's  churchyard — just  hear 
that,  mother!"  exclaimed  Phil,  laughing. 

"But  indeed  it's  true,  Master  Phil." 

"I  know  it  is,"  said  Linda,  quietly;  "mam- 
ma often  wore  a  dress  she  bought  in  St.  Paul's 
churchyard.  Why  it's  shops." 

"Goodness  gracious!"  exclaimed  Cad — then 
blushing  as  she  caught  her  mother's  eye, 
added,  "O,  dear,  I  can't  help  it." 

"What  is  it — what  did  she  do?"  queried 
Linda,  puzzled  at  Cad's  red  cheeks.  "  O,  I 
know — it  was  slang." 

"  It  is  the  habit  of  some  little  girls  to  use 


Sports  at  Red  bow.  291 

a  great  many  unnecessary  words,"  said  Mrs. 
Winfield.  "I  have  even  heard  them  say,  'I 
bet,'  which  is  a  mark  of  vulgarity.  It  pained 
me  very  much,  because  I  think  it  both  silly 
and  degrading  to  use  such  words.  I  remem- 
ber yesterday,  Linda  'thought  she  would  die/ 
her  feet  were  so  cold,  and  Cad  came  down 
stairs,  'tired  to  death.'  I  cannot  consent  to 
allow  such  language  to  be  used  among  my 
little  folks." 

"Next  time  I'm  going  to  say,  'I  thought 
I  should  die,'  I'll  hold  my  mouth  so;"  and 
Linda  suited  the  action  to  the  word. 

Ross  had  come  out  of  his  reverie  by  this 
time. 

"I've  got  it!"  he  said  in  homely  Saxon 
words;  "mother,  where's  shop  now?" 

"  In  my  sitting-room,"  said  Cad,  "  in  boxes. 
It  does  lumber  awful." 

"  Phil,  go  and  measure  the  dining-room 
table,  please,  just  as  it  stands." 

Phil  drew  a  yard  measure,  from  his  pocket 
of  course,  and  went  out,  returning  presently 


292      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

with  the  information  that  it  was  exactly  seven 
yards  round. 

"  Then,  mother,  seven  yards  of  coarse  cloth 
will  do  it,  or  at  least  a  strip  little  over  a  quar- 
ter wide  and  seven  yards  long.  Who  is  ready 
to  sew  such  a  strip?" 

"I,  I!"  shouted  all  the  girls  together. 

"  Then  it  must  not  be  done  till  to-morrow," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield.  "  Cad  has  been  sewing 
too  long  already,  and  the  evenings  should  be 
spent  in  recreation." 

"  But  v/hat  shall  we  do  ?"  queried  Cad,  put- 
ting aside  her  work  reluctantly. 

"Let's  go  and  snow-ball,"  said  Phil;  "it's 
moon-light." 

Linda  whispered  in  Cad's  ear. 

Cad  clapped  her  hands. 

"  O,  Kate,  if  you  only  would  !  The  Baker 
girls  do,  often." 

"If  I  only  would  what?" 

"  Put  your  tiresome  book  down,  and  I'll 
whisper.  The  company  must  please  excuse 
me." 


Sports  at  Redbow.  293 

"  But  my  book  isn't  tiresome." 

"  Never  mind — you'll  think  so,  I  guess, 
after — "  and  Cad  whispered  in  her  ear. 

Kate  smiled.  To  tell  the  truth,  her  eyes, 
ached  a  little,  and  she  was  glad  to  comply 
with  Cad's  request. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  if  Ross  will  bring  in  the 
dining-room  screen." 

"  What  torments  girls  are !"  said  Ross, 
laughing,  but  complying  willingly  with  her 
request. 

Cad  found  some  cards  in  her  basket.  In  a 
few  moments  she  and  Linda  had  written  upon 

them, 

"TICKETS  FIFTY  CENTS. 

Admit  the  Bearer'' 

Then  she  distributed  them  around  the  little 
circle. 

The  screen  was  established  at  the  farthest 
end  of  the  room,  near  two  of  the  study  tables. 
Cad  and  Linda  busily  obeyed  the  instructions 
of  Kate  and  Ross.  Then  Ellen  was  called  in, 
chairs  arranged,  Phil  established  as  curtain- 


294      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

lifter,  or  in  other  words  screen  puller,  while 
the  rest  ranged  themselves  as  spectators.  Just 
at  that  identical  moment  the  door-bell  rang, 
and  who  should  make  an  appearance  but 
mother  and  father  Primrose. 

They  had  an  errand  on  business,  but  Mrs. 
Winfield  insisted  that  they  should  come  in 
and  enjoy  the  entertainment,  whatever  it  was 
to  be. 

"  What  a  sfl/cn-did  audience !"  said  Cad, 
manufacturing  two  more  tickets. 

"  I  only  want  Fanny  at  present,"  said  Kate 
from  behind  the  screen. 

"Can't  we  all  be  in?"  asked  Cad. 

"No,  little  Miss  Vanity,  only  one  at  a  time, 
if  you  please,"  said  Ross,  as  Fanny  soon  dis- 
appeared behind  the  screen. 

Meantime  Ross  had  been  clearing  some  of 
the  brackets  of  their  statuary  and  flowers, 
while  Kate  was  draping  the  sewing-machine 
with  much  taste  and  a  mammoth  table-cloth. 
The  great  arm-chair  was  soon  changed  into 
a  crimson  tent-top,  and  vases  of  flowers  and 


Sports  at  Red  bow.  295 

statues  converted  the  niche  into  an  artist's 
studio. 

On  a  great  hassock,  skilfully  covered  to 
represent  a  block  of  marble,  Fanny  was  placed, 
submitting  to  have  her  face  and  hands  smear- 
ed with  some  harmless  compound,  till  she 
looked  like  a  bust  done  in  streaked  marble. 
It  did  very  well  by  a  faint  light,  however.  A 
piece  of  muslin  was  wrapped  with  fine  grace- 
ful outlines  about  her  light  curls,  a  sheet 
draped  her  from  throat  to  feet,  a  girdle  of 
white  handkerchiefs,  a  string  of  white  beads 
— Washington  standing  serenely  on  the  sew- 
ing-machine, Fanny's  right  hand  pressing  his 
marble  locks,  and  a  small  statue,  half  hidden 
by  the  tent-top  aforesaid,  and  there  was  as 
fine  a  representation  of  the  Goddess  of  Lib- 
erty as  was  ever  given  to  the  world  on  short 
notice. 

"  Now  don't  move,"  whispered  Kate,  sur- 
veying her  work  with  proud,  shining  eyes. 
"  Please  put  shades  on  the  lamps,  mamma," 
and  the  screen  was  rolled  aside. 


296      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"It  is  magnificent!"  exclaimed  Ross,  while 
the  dear  old  Primroses  sat  with  strained  eyes, 
full  of  wonder. 

"Is  it  a  real  stattoo?"  queried  Mrs.  Prim- 
rose. 

"Perfectly  real,"  replied  Ross,  while  his 
mother  sat  gazing,  all  her  soul  in  her  eyes. 
Seen  in  the  soft  sweet  light  of  the  fire  and  the 
dim  lamps,  one  could  not  have  told  that  the 
whole  design  was  not  an  exquisite  creation  in 
marble. 

"I  think  we've  got  more  than  one  genius  in 
the  family,"  said  Ross — "well  done  Kate!" 

"Where  did  you  git  it?"  again  asked  the 
wondering  old  lady. 

"Why,  its  Fanny,"  whispered  Cad,  "isn't  it 
^/-egant.  She  didn't  move  one  bit;  its  just 
exactly  like  a  statue^ — there — I  saw  her  lips 
laugh  a  little,  didn't  you?" 

This  speech  put  an  end  to  the  gravity  of  the 
company.  Fanny  was  praised  for  her  quiet 
pose,  and  Kate  for  her  inventive  genius. 

"Now  do  fix  us,"  said  Cad. 


Sports  at  Redbow.  297 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you,  pus- 
sies," said  Kate. 

The  screen  was  rolled  back,  and  Cad  and 
Linda  transformed  by  the  aid  of  shawls,  and 
strings  of  beads,  and  fringe  and  a  red  sash  or 
two,  into  wandering  minstrels. 

Cad  took  position  with  an  old  violin  upon 
which  Ross  was  practising,  and  Linda,  her 
dark  locks  escaping  from  a  fanciful  turban, 
held  the  cover  of  a  bandbox  in  lieu  of  a  tam- 
bourine. The  red  table-cloth  made  their 
carpet,  the  tent-top  and  statuary  were  newly 
arranged,  and  the  two  little  figures,  one  in  the 
act  of  playing,  the  other  presenting  the  tam- 
bourine for  charity,  were  skilfully  put  upon 
the  stage.  Then  the  screen  was  rolled  away, 
and  everybody  exclaimed  at  the  beauty  of  the 
picture. 

"It  looks  so  real!"  said  mother  Primrose; 
"poor  little  creeters !"  and  she  actually  wiped 
a  tear  from  her  sympathetic  old  eyes. 

Next  came  little  Red  Riding  Hood,  that 
old,  yet  ever  new  and  heart-touching  repre- 


298      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

sentation,  in  which  the  majestic  dog   on  the 
hearth  rug  did  duty  as  the  wolf. 

"We  will  now  have  music  by  the  band," 
cried  Ross,  entering  into  the  sport  with  great 
glee;  so  Kate  seated  herself  at  the  piano, 
Ross  flourished  the  violin,  Phil  managed  a 
cornet  with  a  sheet  of  music  artistically  rolled 
up;  Cad  played  the  drum,  and  Linda  clashed 
the  carpet-scissors.  Even  nurse  took  part 
with  the  tambourine,  and  the  audience  laughed 
till  tears  rolled  down  their  cheeks. 

At  last  the  din  increased  past  endurance. 
Phil's  cornet  cracked  and  grew  hoarse,  and 
the  mistress  of  the  house  was  compelled  to 
enforce  silence. 

Books  and  work  were  gathered  up  at  last; 
the  chairs,  statuettes  and  flowers  put  back  in 
their  places,  order  restored,  a  hymn  sang,  a 
chapter  read  by  Ross,  and  then  the  happy 
circle  dispersed. 

The  fire  gently  burned  itself  to  ashes,  and 
puss  slept  the  whole  night  long  on  the  rug 
before  the  hearth. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


H  O  M  E-M  A  D  E. 

"Alas,  the  joys  that  fortune  brings 

Are  trifling,  and  decay, 
And  those  who  prize  the  paltry  things 
More  trifling  still  than  they." 

OW  for  croquet !"  exclaimed  Ross, 
as  they  gathered  together  after 
lessons  on  the  following  day. 

The  girls  were  soon  at  work. 
Ross  had  improvised  a  roll  of  cotton  cloth, 
seven  yards  long,  and  when  it  was  sewed 
together,  it  took  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  to 
fill  it  with  sawdust,  and  make  an  outer  casing 
of  green  flannel  for  it. 

"  It  looks  like  a  great  green  snake,"  cried 
Cad,  coiling  it  about. 

After  tea  they  fitted  it  around  the  edge  of 

299 


3OO      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  table,  which  had  also  been  covered  with 
a  plain  green  cloth. 

"That's  all  very  well,  as  far  as  it  goes,"  said 
Kate,  "  but  what  shall  we  do  for  wickets  and 
mallets,  and  balls?" 

"I  have  thought  that  all  out,"  Ross  res- 
ponded, and  threw  down  a  bag  full  of  large 
cotton-reels.  "There,  girls,  if  you  can  orna- 
ment them  some  way,  I'll  have  wickets  on 
short  notice,"  he  said. 

Cad  suggested  crotcheting  them  over  with 
red  and  green  worsted,  and  forthwith  they 
all  set  to  work. 

Ross  was  ready  with  some  wire  as  soon  as 
they  were  done,  which  he  fitted  in  the  form 
of  an  arch  into  the  openings  in  the  reels,  two 
reels  to  a  wire,  and  so  formed  handsome  and 
durable  wickets. 

"  Now,  how  are  you  going  to  fasten  them  ?" 
Kate  asked. 

"By  inserting  common  pins  at  the  right  dis- 
tances in  the  table,  and  setting  the  spools  over 
them.  Don't  you  see  they  go  through  the 


Home- Made.  301 

underpart  of  the  aperture,  and  so  make  them 
fast?" 

"  That  is  capital !"  exclaimed  Fanny. 

The  mallets  were  made  with  larger  reels, 
or  spools,  weighted  with  lead  at  one  end,  a 
skewer  of  wood  inserted  at  the  centre,  midway 
between  both  ends  of  the  spools,  and,  presto, 
with  Phil's  largest  marbles  for  balls,  the  cro- 
quet table  was  finished,  and  presented  a  very 
attractive  appearance. 

It  was  the  more  enjoyable,  because  they 
had  made  it  themselves,  with  but  small  outlay 
of  time,  and  none  of  money.  Evening  after 
evening  saw  them,  mallet  in  hand,  enjoying  the 
game  with  infinite  gusto. 

Meantime  Fanny's  modelling  went  on,  and 
she  became  ambitious  to  work  in  less  plastic 
material.  Ross  afforded  her  considerable  help 
by  the  books  he  managed  to  procure  for  her, 
but  alas !  the  little  girl  began  to  give  up  her 
usual  exercise.  She  no  longer  was  ready  with 
the  rest  when  the  hour  came  to  walk  to  the 
old  mill,  or  to  some  of  the  romantic  surround- 


3O2      The  .Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

ings  of  Redbow;  to  slide  on  the  well  frozen 
pond,  or  to  take  sides  in  a  snowball  match. 
She  began  to  grow  pale  and  languid,  and  to 
show  unmistakable  signs-  of  ill-health. 

It  was  very  hard  to  deny  her  the  greatest 
pleasure  of  her  life,  but  Mrs.  Winfield  suc- 
ceeded at  last  in  convincing  her  that  the 
power  would  not  die  out  because  of  inaction. 

"You  shall  have  a  few  hours,  twice  in  the 
week,  my  dear,  and  then  try  to  forget  it  for 
the  rest  of  the  time,"  she  said.  "My  little 
girl's  cheek  is  losing  its  fresh,  rosy  color,  and 
her  step  is  slow.  Wait  till  you  are  a  few 
years  older,  and  your  father  is  able  to  put  you 
under  good  instructors,  and  who  knows  but  we 
may  have  a  little  lady-sculptor  in  Rome  yet  ?" 

"Do  you  really  believe  I  shall  ever  go  to 
Rome?"  asked  Fanny,  her  face  growing  all 
alight. 

"When  papa  gets  better  off,  and  you  are 
older,  and  desire  it,  I  don't  doubt  you  will  go 
to  Rome,  some  time,  Fanny." 

So  the  child  was  satisfied,  and  tried  to  take 


Home-Made.  303 

better  care  of  her  health.  About  this  time  she 
began  sedulously  to  cultivate  Phil.  The  boy 
was  growing  rapidly,  both  in  mental  and 
bodily  proportions.  Since  the  girls  had  been 
at  Redbow,  particularly  during  this  winter, 
when  they  engaged  in  out-door  sports  of  a 
mere  invigorating  character,  his  estimate  of 
girls  had  gone  up  surprisingly.  Instead  of 
making  sport  of  them  because  they  threw  balls 
or  stones  "just  like  a  girl,"  he  taught  them 
how  to  use  their  muscles  and  husband  their 
strength,  until  at  last  he  began  to  fear  that 
they  would  excel  him  in  his  own  privileged 
department. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


A  LEAF  FROM  CAD'S  HOUSEKEEPING. 

"  No  love  is  like  a  sister's  love, 

Unselfish,  free  and  pure, 
A  flame  that,  lighted  from  above, 
Will  guide  but  ne'er  allure." — FEY. 

NE  day  when  Philip  and  Ross  had 
just  finished  their  snow-fort,  and 
were  choosing  sides,  stacks  of  balls 
ready  moulded  environing  them  on 
all  hands,  a  sleigh-load  of  Baker  girls  drove 
up  to  the  old  porch.  Brushing  the  light  snow, 
just  beginning  to  fall,  from  their  coats  and 
furs,  they  entered  the  house,  after  a  keen  in- 
spection of  the  forts,  and  the  monstrous  snow- 
man fast  congealing  in  the  middle  of  one  of 
last  year's  flower-beds. 

304 


A  Leaf  from  Cad's  Housekeeping.  305 

"It  was  such  a  lovely  day  when  we  started," 
said  Marcia,  "  but  it  began  to  storm  before  we 
got  half-way  here." 

"It's  only  a  flurry,  I  guess,"  said  Ross — 
"soon  be  over." 

"  How  are  the  roads  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Winfield, 
as  she  helped  them  off  with  their  bright  warm 
rappings. 

"Worse,  a  great  deal,  than  Jacob  thought 
they  would  be.  Jacob  wanted  us  to  turn  back, 
nq£  only  on  account  of  the  bad  condition  of 
the  roads,  but  Salome  behaved  badly." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  Salome  ?" 

"I  don't  know;  she  stumbled  twice  and 
nearly  upset  us.  Jacob  thinks  she  is  sick; 
when  he  comes  for  us  he  will  bring  old  Pet, 
the  farm  horse.  You  see  we  were  wild  for  a 
sleigh-ride,  and  to  come  over  here.  How' 
warm  and  cozy  it  is!" 

The  girls  very  soon  paired  off — the  three 

youngest .  following   Cad    and    Linda   to    the 

garret  play-room,  while  Kate  and  Fanny,  and 

Marcia  and  her  sister,  remained  in  the  parlor. 

20 


306      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Mrs.  Winfield  was  busy  in  the  nursery,  for 
Prince  Charlie  was  not  well,  so  the  children 
had  the  large  room  all  to  themselves. 

Music  was  suggested  after  the  girls  had 
talked  themselves  tired. 

"  Please  play  for  us,  Kate,"  said  Marcia;  "I 
practice  three  hours  a  day,  steady,  and  I  don't 
feel  like  playing.  I  do  get  so  tired — not  of 
music,  but  the  perpetual  counting  and  ham- 
mering at  the  scales.  How  long  do  you 
practice?"  ^ 

"Only  an  hour  at  a  time,"  Kate  replied; 
"once  in  the  morning  and  once  at  night.  I 
always  like  practising." 

"  I  should  think  so,  because  you  don't  get 
tired  out;  but  the  profession  insists  on  three 
hours." 

"  So  did  my  teacher  in  the  city,  but  I  think 
mamma  convinced  him  that  I  made  better 
progress  with  two  hours,  divided  between 
night  and  morning." 

"  I'll  tell  mamma.  She  thinks  everything 
Mrs.  Winfield  does  is  splendid,"  said  Marcia. 


A  Leaf  from  Cad's  Housekeeping.  307 

Kate  sat  down  and  played  a  sparkling  waltz. 

"  C,  what  is  that  ?"  cried  Marcia,  delighted. 
"I  should  like  to  learn  that." 

"  It's  the  Winfield  waltz,"  spoke  up  Fanny, 
who  was  busy  with  a  portfolio  of  pictures 
which  she  was  showing  Nelly  Baker 

"  The  Winfield  waltz — why,  what  does  she 
mean  ?"  asked  Kate. 

Kate's  cheeks  were  as  red  as  roses. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  she  composed  it." 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  Kate  composes  waltzes  as 
easily  as  sponge-cake,  almost." 

"I  never  saw  such  girls!"  exclaimed  Marcia, 
vehemently.  "Why  can't  we  do  such  things? 
How  curious — Kate  composes  music,  and 
Fanny  makes  images.  What  does  Cad  do?" 

"  She's  not  developed  yet,"  laughed  Fanny. 
"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  takes  to  physic, 
and  becomes  the  family  doctor." 

"O!  Marcia,  do  come  and  see  this  pic- 
ture !"  cried  Nelly.  What  a  beautiful  country 
India  must  be!  How  could  Linda  ever  want 
to  leave  it?" 


308      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Linda  couldn't  help  herself,"  said  Fanny; 
"they  send  all  the  children  away  to  be  edu- 
cated when  they  are  seven  or  nine  years  old. 
Papa  says  if  they  don't,  they  grow  very  indo- 
lent, the  climate  is  so  hot.  The  ladies  there 
sleep  half  the  time,  and  have  servants  to  fan 
them." 

'•I  should  like  that,"  said  Nelly. 

"  Yes,  Nelly  is  one  of  the  lazy  sort,"  laughed 
Marcia. 

"  Can't  we  go  up  stairs  where  the  children 
are?"  asked  Nelly. 

"Just  the  thing!"  cried  Fanny,  who  had 
been  trying  to  think  of  some  new  amusement. 
"Let's  go  very  softly;"  so  they  crept  up,  finger 
on  lip.  The  door  was  as  quietly  opened,  and 
the  scene  that  met  their  view  was  exceedingly 
characteristic. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  stood  a  table  on 
which  much  enduring  Petkin  lay,  dressed  in 
a  long  white  robe.  Cad,  on  her  knees,  seemed 
overwhelmed  with  affliction,  while  all  the 
little  girls  were  seriously  looking  on,  and 


A  Leaf  from  Cad's  Housekeeping.  309 

decorously  wiping  their  eyes  in  pretended 
sorrow. 

"  When  did  your  poor  child  die,  Mrs. 
Petkin  ?"  asked  one  of  the  little  Bakers,  in  a 
voice  of  mixed  condolence  and  tears. 

"  Right  away  after  five  o'  clock  this  morn- 
ing," sobbed  Cad,  from  the  depths  of  her 
apron. 

"Was  she  sick  long?"  queried  another, 
with  as  sad  an  expression  as  the  round,  merry 
features  could  command. 

"O,  she's  been  a  dreadful  sufferer,"  moaned 
Cad;  "she  had  two  cancers  and  consumption, 
and  mustard  plasters  enough  to  worry  her 
into  her  grave ;"  and  here  the  sobs  became 
infectious,  every  face  was  buried  in  its  own 
appropriate  apron. 

"  Why  I  thought  it  was  scarlet  fever,"  cried 
Linda,  after  a  moan. 

"  Well,  she  had  a  touch  of  that  too ;  and 
only  yesterday  she  took  the  measles ;  she's 
had  everything !"  and  with  a  dreadful  boo-hoo, 
Cad  subsided  into  her  apron. 


3 io      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"  Maybe  she's  not  dead,"  said  one  of  the 
comforters,  who  had  been  gazing  now  and 
then  with  intense  grief  at  the  face  of  the 
departed  Miss  Petkin. 

"  O  yes,"  retorted  Cad,  in  a  smothered 
voice ;  she  breathed  her  last  in  my  own  arms. 
Oh — oh — oh — Petkin,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"She'll  go  distracted,"  said  Linda,  mourn- 
fully shaking  her  head.  "  Mrs  Petkin,  I  would 
not  take  on  so ;  dear  little  Petkin  is  better  off 
She's — she's" — Linda  hesitated ;  she  could  not 
exactly  bring  herself  to  say  "  in  heaven,"  but 
Miss  Petkin's  remarkably  glazed  face  helped 
her  to  an  idea — "she's  gone — to — China." 

"I  don't  believe  she's  dead,"  spoke  up  one 
of  the  youthful  Bakers.  "Papa  read  about 
somebody  who  was  all  ready  to  be  buried,  and 
she  wasn't  dead;  she  was  in  a  chance." 

"A  what?"  queried  Cad,  surprised,  out  of 
her  handkerchief.  "  O,  you  mean  a  trance,  I 
guess." 

"Now  maybe,  Mrs.  Petkin,  she  is  in  a 
trance,"  said  Linda.  "  I  shouldn't  wonder. 


A  Leaf  from  Cad's  Housekeeping.  311 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?"  moaned  Cad,  subsiding 
into  her  handkerchief  again.  "My  poor  child 
was  deaf  and  dumb.  She  never  spoke  a  word 
since  she  was  born,  never!"  and  Cad's  sobs 
took  new  vigor. 

"  Put  a  mussy  plas'er  on  her  face,"  said  a 
little  four-year-old,  "and  if  she's  'live,  she'll 
wobble— I  do." 

"There's  mustard  in  the  closet,"  said  Cad, 
pathetically.  "You  can  try  it  if  you  like.  I'm 
too  overcome." 

Up  sprang  the  whole  bevy  of  mourners,  and 
down  went  the  handkerchiefs.  The  mustard 
was  applied  with  such  good  results  that  Petkin 
was  soon  hugged  to  her  little  mother's  heart, 
quite  as  cheerful  and  smiling  as  ever. 

"  I  will  not  allow  her  to  be  sick  again," 
said  Cad  decidedly ;  "  it's  too  trying  to  the 
feelings.  Nina,  get  out  the  best  tea-set,  and 
give  our  friends  something  to  eat.  It  won't 
be  a  regular  meal,"  she  added;  "we've  only 
got  spring  chicken,  and  green  peas — but  when 
folks  are  hungry,  anything  is  welcome." 


3 1 2      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Fanny  and  Nelly,  unable  longer  to  restrain 
their  mirth,  laughed  out  loud. 

"  O,  Cad,  you  silly  little  thing  !"  said  Fanny 
with  great  emphasis,  and  most  unwisely. 

"Well,  I  think  I  wouldn't  be  overseeing  my 
neighbors,"  said  Cad,  crossly.  Her  poor  lit- 
tle pride  was  wounded,  and  her  face  flushed. 

"What  ailed  poor  Petkin?"  queried  Fanny, 
mockingly — "which  disease  did  she  die  of?" 

"Water  on  the  brain,"  laughed  Linda,  join- 
ing in  the  joke. 

"  I  guess  you  mean  water  on  the  bran," 
retorted  Fanny;  "  Petkin  is  stuffed  full  of  it." 

"  Some  folks  better  mind  their  business," 
muttered  Cad  wrathfully,  and  a  hush  fell  on 
the  little  company. 

"What  doctor  did  you  have,  Mrs.  Petkin?" 
asked  ironical  Fanny. 

This  was  too  much  even  for  amiable  Cad. 
She  seldom  lost  her  temper,  but  when  she  did, 
it  was  lost,  as  a  little  girl  once  said,  a  good 
ways  off,  and  hard  to  find  again. 

"Miss    Fanny    Winfield,"    she    said,    with 


A  Leaf  from  Cad's  Housekeeping.  313 

blazing  eyes,  "  I  think  you  are  mean  and  im- 
pertinent. I  don't  want  you  in  my  house,  and 
if  you  don't  go,  I'll  break  all  your  heads!" 

The  little  company,  not  understanding  the 
hidden  meaning  of  this  threatening  speech, 
began  to  back  out,  uneasily. 

"  O,  Cad!"  exclaimed  Fanny,  becoming  sen- 
sible, "you  are  angry  now.  I  didn't  mean 
anything.  Can't  you  take  a  joke?" 

"No,  I  can't;"  retorted  Cad;  "not,"  she 
added  more  quietly,  "  in  the  presence  of 
witnesses;"  and  the  tears  began  to  fall,  and 
the  poor  little  shamed,  wounded  bosom  to 
heave  with  real  sobs,  while  Petkin  fell  un- 
heeded to  the  floor. 

"Now  I'm  so  sorry  I've  spoiled  everything," 
said  Fanny,  regretfully. 

Her  words  fell  on  dead  silence,  save  the 
sobs  of  the  poor  little  mother  of  twenty  dolls. 

"  But  then,  perhaps  mamma  wouldn't  like 
to  have  you  play  in  that  fashion?" 

"  1  guess,"  cried  Cad,  a  queer  quaver  in  her 
voice,  produced  by  indignation  and  grief,  "I've 


314      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

as  good  a  right  to  have  my  children  sick  and 
die,  as  anybody." 

"So  you  have,  Cad,  and  I  did  wrong;  come, 
I'm  real  sorry — don't  cry  that  way;  what 
will  your  company  think?" 

"  I  guess  they'll  think  I  haven't  got  a  very 
polite  sister,"  said  Cad  honestly,  her  indignant 
heat  dying  hard. 

"Then  you  won't  kiss  and  make  up.  Well, 
I'm  going  away,  Cad,"  Fanny  replied. 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  Cad  called  in  a  choking 
voice.  Fanny  paused  on  the  threshold. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  said  I'd  break  your  heads," 
the  little  girl  admitted. 

"  O,  never  mind,  Cad,  I  shouldn't  blame 
you  much  if  you  did.  They're  not  very  hand- 
some, and  I  did  wrong  to  tease  you." 

Cad's  sobs  grew  dryer.  It  became  evidently 
hard  work  to  keep  angry. 

"I  guess  I  was  cross,"  she  said  at  last; 
"but  Petkin  made  me  so  nervous." 

Fanny  smiled  at  hearing  her  own  old  reason 
for  irritation  and  crossness. 


A  Leaf  from  Cad's  Housekeeping.  3 1 5 

"  I  wouldn't  let  her  get  so  sick  again,  dear," 
she  said  soothingly.  "It's  much  nicer  to  be 
healthy  all  the  time." 

"That's  a  fact!"  rejoined  Cad,  looking  affec- 
tionately into  Petkin's  placid,  unwinking  eyes. 
Then  a  moment  after,  she  added: 

"I  shall  tell  mamma  all  about  it;  I  was  to 
blame." 

"  No  dear;  I  was  as  much  to  blame  as  you 
were,"  said  Fanny,  knowing  that  now  she 
could  kiss  her  sister;  so  the  kiss  of  peace  was 
the  signal  for  a  general  jubilee. 

The  old  garret  shook  and  the  windows 
rattled,  firmly  as  they  were  set,  and  the  peals 
of  laughter  rolled  down  into  the  nursery,  and 
even  into  the  parlor,  where  Kate  and  Marcia 
were  enjoying  themselves. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

EVENINGS    AT     HOME. 

"0!  mirth  and  innocence — 0,  milk  and  water! 
Ye  happy  mixtures  of  more  happy  days." 

HEN  Fanny  and  Nelly  Baker  went 
down  stairs,  Kate  was  setting  the 
table  for  tea,  and  Marcia  was  help- 
ing her. 

"  Ellen  has  got  the  toothache,  poor  soul,  so 
we're  going  to  get  tea,  and  say  nothing  to 
mamma." 

"  Let  me  cut  the  bread,"  said  Fanny. 
"Will  you  cut  it  straight?     You  know   it 
looks  badly  when  it's  ragged,  and  somebody 
has  cut  our  new  table-cloth." 
"It  wasn't  me,"  said  Fanny. 
"  It  wasn't  me,  either — and  so  they  all  say," 
Kate  made  laughing  reply.     "It  was  that  old 
316 


Evenings  at  Home.  317 

'somebody/  who  has  to  take  the  credit  of  all 
the  careless  things  that  are  done,  mamma 
says.  Now  Fanny,  here's  the  glass  preserve- 
dish.  Please  don't  spill  over — the  honey  is 
on  the  third  shelf." 

"How  beautiful  it  all  looks !"  said  Marcia, 
admiringly.  "I  often  think  I  could  make  our 
table  look  better  than  our  Hannah  does." 

"Mamma  is  exceedingly  particular  about 
the  table,"  responded  Kate.  "Every  fork,  and 
knife  and  spoon  must  be  laid  just  so;  and  we 
girls  have  to  work  hard  once  a  week,  cleaning 
the  silver.  I  do  believe  if  mamma  had  only 
potatoes  for  dinner,  she'd  have  the  table  set 
charmingly.  If  there's  a  speck  on  the  glass 
she  sends  it  away.  She  says  a  great  deal 
depends  upon  how  we  do  common  things." 

"  It's  as  good  as  a  school  to  come  here," 
said  Marcia,  thoughtfully. 

When  Mrs.  Winfield  came  down,  it  was  in 
answer  to  the  summons  of  the  supper-bell. 

"We  did  it  all,  Mrs.  Winfield,"  exclaimed 
Marcia,  radiant — "only  Kate  made  the  tea." 


3i 8      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"Where  is  Ellen?" 

"Sick  with  toothache." 

"  Why  didn't  you  call  me,  dear?" 

"Why  should  we  bother  you,  mamma?" 
asked  Kate;  "besides,  Marcia  wanted  to  help." 

"Yes,  I  begged,"  responded  Marcia. 

"Good  girls!  Kate  always  knows  just 
what  to  do." 

Only  a  little  word  of  commendation,  but  it 
made  happy  hearts.  And  the  long,  handsome 
table,  how  full  it  was?  Eleven  little  folks, 
chatting  and  laughing,  as  biscuit  and  cake, 
honey  and  fruit  disappeared.  Mrs.  Winfield 
enjoyed  it;  everybody  enjoyed  it,  except  Phil, 
who  never  could  quite  conquer  his  bashful- 
ness,  and  he  longed  to  get  through  and  out  of 
the  way  of  "girls." 

"  Mrs.  Winfield,"  said  Marcia,  after  the  table 
had  been  cleared  by  Ellen,  whose  bundled  up 
face  was  better  for  the  nap  she  had  caught, 
"Jacob  said  he  should  certainly  be  here  by 
seven,  and  it  is  half  past,  now.  Is  your  clock 
right  ?" 


Evenings  at  Home.  319 

Mrs.  Winfield  said  the  clock  was  nearly 
always  right. 

Another  hour  passed.  The  children  were 
uneasy.  It  was  snowing  hard — had  been 
snowing  hard  all  day. 

"I  guess  you'll  catch  it,  staying  so,"  said 
Phil;  and  then  at  a  look  from  Kate,  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  fell  over  the  rocking  chair; 
after  which  he  retreated  behind  the  globes  to 
study  Asia. 

Another  hour  passed.  Marcia  stood  anx- 
iously watching  at  the  window. 

"  It's   so  strange  that  Jacob  don't   come !" 

The  clock  struck  eight. 

Then  came  a  knock  at  the  door.  Ross 
answered  it.  A  horseman  stood  at  the  porch, 
white  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  came  with  a  message  from  Mrs.  Baker," 
he  said,  declining  to  dismount  and  come  in  at 
the  boy's  request.  "  On  their  way  back,  one 
of  the  carriage-horses  behaved  badly,  and  Ja- 
cob was  thrown  out.  Mrs.  Baker  sends  her 
compliments,  and  is  sorry  she  shall  be  obliged 


320      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

to  put  Mrs.  Winfield  to  inconvenience.  But 
there  is  no  way  to  get  the  children  home  to- 
night. To-morrow  she  will  come  herself  for 
them,  if  the  storm  holds  up." 

Ross  came  back  with  a  whoop  and  hurrah. 
Most  of  the  little  folks  were  jubilant;  Marcia 
was  anxious. 

"Where  can  you  put  us  all,  Mrs.  Winfield?" 
she  asked. 

"We'll  manage,"  she  said,  smiling  "There 
are  plenty  of  beds  in  the  house,  and  I  can  turn 
Cad's  play-room  into  a  dormitory,  and  tuck 
nearly  all  of  you  up  there." 

"O! — ah!"  chorused  Cad  and  Linda,  and 
the  .little  ones. 

"  We'll  tell  stories  all  night  long,"  whispered 
the  younger  children. 

"  But  you  must  sleep  on  the  floor." 

"O,  O!  jr//r«-did!"  echoed  Cad  and  Linda. 
"Just  like  camping  out." 

"Of  course,  my  girls  will  give  up  their 
rooms  to  their  young  friends,  and  take  the 
loft,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  with  a  smile. 


Evenings  at  Home.  321 

There  was  a  suppressed  "oh-ing"  this  time. 

"  We  couldn't  think  of  that,"  said  Marcia — 
"we  must  have  the  beds  in  the  play-room." 

"  Why  can't  we  all  sleep  there  ?"  asked 
downright  Cad,  "  and  have  a  real  good  time." 

"  I'm  afraid,  my  dear,  that  in  that  case  we 
should  none  of  us  get  any  sleep.  No,  I  think 
you  must  leave  the  arrangement  with  me,  and 
you  know,"  with  her  rare  smile,  "  there  must 
be  no  appeal  from  mother's  decision.  So  let 
us  proceed  to  enjoy  the  evening.  A  little 
more  wood,  Ross." 

It  was  a  more  than  usually  brilliant  occasion. 
Ross  left  his  books  and  improvised  a  literary 
club.  The  younger  branches  were  kept  toler- 
ably quiet  with  pictures,  and  Phil  studied  the 
globes  with  desperate  attempts  at  invisibility. 
Ross  recited  some  beautiful  poems,  and  Marcia 
read  the  "May  Queen,"  of  Tennyson,  with 
charming  effect.  Nelly  exhibited  a  new  gift, 
and  even  delighted  Phil,  so  that  for  the 
moment  he  forgot  India.  But  that  was  not 
surprising,  for  Nelly's  little  song  was  entitled 
21 


322      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  "  Fisher  Maiden,"  and  whatever  smacked 
of  fishing,  arrested  Phil's  attention.  Then 
they  had  a  round  of  croquet,  and  one  gorgeous 
tableaux,  arranged  out  of  home  materials. 

"It  don't  seem  to  me  that  we  suffer  for  lack 
of  amusement,  even  when  we  have  company," 
said  Mrs.  Winfield,  as  the  little  folks  formed 
a  circle  about  her. 

"  If  we  only  had  boys  at  home !"  Marcia 
said,  regretfully.  "All  girls  and  no  boys, 
isn't  half  as  pleasant." 

"We'll  lend  you  Ross  and  Phil,  some- 
time," said  Fanny. 

"No  you  won't!"  echoed  Phil. 
•  There  was  a  general  laugh  at  Phil's  expense. 

"  Time  doesn't  hang  so  heavily  in  the 
country  as  you  thought  it  would,  Fanny?" 
queried  her  mother. 

"No  indeed,"  was  Fanny's  prompt  reply. 
"Still,  I  should  like  to  go  to  the  city  for  a 
visit,  and  see  the  picture  galleries  again ;  we 
haven't  any  of  them  in  the  country;"  she 
added,  with  a  sort  of  triumph. 


Evenings  at  Home.  323 

"  Haven't  we  ?"  queried  Mrs.  Winfield,  with 
an  arch  smile.  "I  happen  to  know  of  several." 

"Here?" 

"  Yes,  here." 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  see  them." 

"  Get  up  at  five  o'  clock  to-morrow  morning 
and  I  will  show  you  a  picture  more  splendid 
than  any  city  gallery  ever  held." 

"  O,  I  understand !"  said  Fanny,  with  less 
confidence  in  her  tone.  "You  mean  the  moun- 
tain, and — other  things." 

"  Old  Redbow  is  a  picture  gallery  of  itself!" 
exclaimed  Ross.  "  It  is  perpetually  changing. 
You  ought  to  see  it  with  the  falling  snow 
hanging  like  a  soft  shining  veil  over  its  rough 
edges,  and  when  the  sun  shines  on  it,  just 
lining  all  the  hollows  with  red  gold — it  is 
simply  sublime." 

"Where  does  the  humming-birds  live?" 
queried  Cad,  looking  up  from  the  pictures. 

"  All  over  the  world,"  said  Kate.  "  No,  now 
I  remember — only  in  America." 

"Somebody  brought  mamma  a  humming- 


324      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

bird's  nest  once,  with  three  little  eggs  in  it," 
said  Linda.  "  He  cut  off  the  branch  of  the 
tree  -with  it,  and  brought  the  little  mother 
and  all." 

"  Did  it  live  ?"  asked  Marcia. 

"  It  lived  a  long  time.  Mamma  used  to 
feed  it  with  honey-water.  One  of  the  dear 
little  ones  died.  They  were  just  like  butter- 
flies, with  bills." 

"They  are  here  in  summer,"  said  Fanny; 
"I  believe  I'll  try  to  make  one  in  clay." 

"When  our  birds  died,"  resumed  Linda, 
"  mamma  had  a  tiny,  tiny  bouquet  of  feather- 
flowers  made  of  the  little  feathers.  We've 
got  it  at  home  in  a  glass  case.  They  don't 
grow  in  India,  I  guess." 

"I  don't  think  they  do,"  said  Ross;  "they 
are  a  product  of  this  great  broad  American 
land,  ^vhich  beats  your  baked  country  hollow. 
There  isn't  another  country  in  all  the  world 
like  this — is  there,  mother?" 

"For  what!" 

"O,  for  everything." 


Evenings  at  Home.  325 

"That's  a  somewhat  broad  assertion,  my 
son,  isn't  it?" 

"Broad  enough  for  me  to  take  my  stand  on 
it,"  said  Ross,  laughing. 

"You  need  not  call  India  my  country," 
Linda  responded;  "I'm  not  an  Indian." 

"  If  you  are,  you're  an  American  Indian,** 
said  Cad,  reflectively. 

"  No,  I  just  belong  here,"  said  Linda.  "  I'll 
tell  you— I'm  a  Winfieldite." 

"Or  a  Redbower,"  suggested  Ross. 

"How  happy  you  all  are!"  said  Marcia, 
with  a  little  sigh. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A     BREATH     FROM     THE     CITY. 

"Adieu  the  city's  ceaseless  hum, 
The  haunts  of  sensual  life  adieu! 
Green  fields  and  silent  glens,  we  come 
To  spend  this  bright  sweet  day  with  you." 

ANNY  stood  in   the   porch,  on  the 
look-out  for  her  father. 

"There  he  comes,"  said  Cad,  "and 
somebody  with  him." 
"Who  can  it  be?" 

"  She's  fashionable,"  said  Cad,  holding  her 
head  critically  on  one  side — "for  just  see  her 
feathers !" 

"  O  !" — Fanny's  eyes  sparkled — "  I  do  be- 
lieve it's  Jessie  Manning.  It  is,  Cad,  it  is! 
She  wrote  me  that  she  should  come  some- 
time." 

326 


A  Breath  from  the  City.         327 

Kate  was  wild.  She  could  hardly  wait  till 
the  carriage  stopped. 

"  O,  Fanny !  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  and 
so  cold !"  chattered  Jessie. 

"Why  it's  just  like  the  dear  old  study,  isn't 
it?"  as  Kate  led  her  in  and  the  little  folks 
flocked  about.  "There's  the  aquarium,  and 
everything  just  the  same.  O,  what  a  lovely 
wood-fire !  it's  the  first  I  ever  saw  in  my  life — 
everything  here  is  so  green  and  delightful! 
And  you  didn't  expect  me  a  bit,  did  you  ?  I 
took  a  notion  to  come,  though  mamma  said 
I  ought  to  wait  till  summer." 

"  Now  if  Marcia  and  Nelly  had  only  staid 
over,"  said  Fanny;  "but  they  went  home  this 
morning.  They  are  such  delightful  girls; 
you'd  have  been  so  pleased  with  them  !" 

"What!  new  friends?"  exclaimed  Jessie, 
with  a  comical  little  dash  of  jealousy.  "  May- 
be you'd  quite  forgotten  me." 

"  Forgotten  you !  how  can  you  say  that 
Jessie?  No  indeed;  I  never  forget.  I'm  so 
glad  you  have  come — what  splendid  times  we 


328      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

shall  have !  We'll  make  you  quite  a  country- 
girl.  Did  you  see  Redbow?  we  have  so 
many  charming  places." 

"  No,  no ;  you  couldn't  make  me  a  country- 
girl,  not  if  you  tried  years.  Not  but  what  the 
country  is  pleasant,  sometimes,  and  I  suppose 
one  could  get  used  to  it ;  but  what  do  you  do 
without  shop-windows,  or  seeing  people,  or 
going  to  places?  I  should  die  here  in  a 
month,  I  am  sure  1  should." 

Fanny  tried  to  revive  old  recollections,  but 
actually  failed  to  get  up  a  heartache,  such  as 
the  first  mention  of  Redbow  had  inflicted. 

The  two  girls  went  in  Fanny's  room  to- 
gether, nor  was  Jessie's  praise  unstinted  as 
she  watched  the  changing  tints  on  old  Red- 
bow's  mighty  walls  of  rock. 

"  It's  a  lovely  place,  though,"  said  Jessie ; 
"and  if  ever  I  could  live  in  the  country,  I 
should  want  to  live  here.  I  had  no  idea  it 
was  so  pretty.  Do  you  ever  hear  the  news?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Fanny,  "  and  I  expect 
you  have  brought  me  a  budget." 


A  Breath  from  the  City.         329 

"  So  much,  that  I  don't  know  where  to 
begin.  You  remember  Anne  Wharton,  don't 
you  ?  She  got  the  medal  for  composition,  and 
nobody  can  speak  to  her  since — she's  as  vain 
as  a  peacock.  Her  mother  gave  her  a  splendid 
party — the  flowers  alone  cost  a  hundred 
dollars,  and  I  don't  dare  to  say  what  her  dress 
cost.  O!  Fanny,  there  are  such  lovely  styles 
now ;  what  do  you  do  without  them  ?" 

"  We  manage  so  as  not  to  look  very  ridicu- 
lous," laughed  Fanny. 

"  But  what  do  you  do  with  yourselves  all 
through  the  year?  You  can't  think  how  I 
have  missed  you.  Everywhere  I  went,  I 
wanted  Fanny;  and  then  it  seemed  to  me 
you  must  be  disappointed  and  suffering." 

"Suffering!  O  dear  me,  no,"  said  Fanny, 
her  face  brightening ;  "  why  I've  learned  more, 
and  exercised  more,  and  done  more  out  here 
at  dear  old  Redbow  than — I  was  going  to 
say — in  all  my  life  before." 

"  But  we've  had  such  delightful  concerts ; 
what  do  you  do  for  such  things?" 


33O      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"We  get  up  concerts  among  ourselves." 

"You  do? — you  must  get  up  one  for  me, 
then.  I've  brought  you  some  beautiful 
crochet-patterns,  and  a  lovely  new  tidy-stitch. 
But  don't  you  feel  queer  sometimes,  without 
any  shops,  or  milliners,  or  dress-makers  ?" 

"Some  way  we  do  without  them,"  said 
Fanny,  brightly.  "  I  used  to  think  it  was  very 
hard,  but  we  have  such  fun,  in  cutting  and 
making  our  own  dresses." 

"  Dear  me !  but  do  you  really  do  that  ?     I 
thought  your  papa  brought  a  dress-maker  from 
town." 
» Fanny  laughed  heartily  at  this. 

"  We  should  be  obliged  to  keep  one  on  the 
premises  if  we  were  as  dependent  as  that,"  she 
said;  "for  we  are  wanting  something  cut  or 
made  about  all  the  time.  We  do  have  a 
seamstress,  occasionally,  of  course — little  miss 
Brown  with  a  red  top-knot." 

Miss  Jessie  confessed  from  day  to  day  that 
she  really  began  to  like  Redbow,  but  Fanny 
missed  something  in  her  friend's  companion- 


A  Breath  from  the  City.         331 

ship.  It  was  so  wearying  to  sit  by  the  hour 
and  listen  to  descriptions  of  dress  and  fashion. 
She  was  free  to  admit  that  Jessie's  tastes  were 
no  longer  her  tastes ;  that  a  vein  of  irony 
and  gossip  ran  through  all  her  lively  little  dis- 
sertations; that  she  always  told  some  fault, 
or  defect,  and  dwelt  continually  on  trifling 
things. 

In  the  grand  presence  of  Redbow,  millinery 
had  come  to  be  a  secondary  consideration. 
So  had  ribbons. 

"Is  it  possible  those  were  once  my  pleas- 
ures— that  I  used  to  feel  and  talk  as  Jessie 
does  ?"  she  asked  herself.  "  Blessed  be  Red- 
bow!" 

To  tell  of  the  many  pleasant  games  of  the 
little  folks  out  of  doors  that  sunny  winter- 
week — their  races  over  the  crisp  snow  of  the 
meadows — their  walks  to  the  mill,  where  little 
Jemmy  was  duly  exhibited,  and  the  story  of 
his  "almost  drowning"  told  over  again,  to 
Phil's  abounding  glory — the  castles  they  built, 
with  mighty  snow-pillars,  and  gothic  gateways, 


332      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

the  chairs  of  the  same  icy  material — the  slides, 
and  trials  of  skating,  in  which  the  Redbow 
little  folks  came  out  quite  ahead  of  Jessie — the 
sled-races  and  snow-ball  matches  in  which  the 
girls  were  victors  as  often  as  the  boys — the 
chestnut  and  apple-roasting,  the  corn  popped, 
and  the  corn-balls  made — and  pets  of  birds 
and  kittens,  and  doll-babies  enjoyed,  and 
games,  charades,  debating  clubs,  concerts  and 
lectures  organized — the  letters  written,  the 
lessons  learned,  the  little  keepsakes  made  for 
"father" — the  help  busy  little  hands  rendered 
"  mother," — to  tell  you  of  all  these  would  take 
more  time  and  space  than  I  could  occupy. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

BITTER      AND      SWEET. 

"  Not  every  flower  that  blossoms, 

Diffuses  sweets  around, 
Not  every  scene  hope  gilds  with  light 
Will  fair  be  found." — MRS.  HALE. 

HE  winter  days  had  gone,  and  the 
sweet  breezes  of  summer  made  Red- 
bow  glorious. 

Ross  was  in  his  glory,  and  ready 
to  spoil  his  acres  with  experiments.  Fortu- 
nately, he  was  willing  to  be  advised,  guided, 
and  even  controlled  by  father  Primrose,  and 
went  to  work  in  a  sober,  mechanical  fashion, 
only  allotting  a  small  portion  of  ground  to 
his  more  novel  ideas.  It  was  not  the  seed 
he  saw  as  he  sowed  it  in  the  long  level  or 
slanting  lines,  but  the  fruit  in  golden  per- 

333 


334      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

fection,  the  ripe  ear,  the  waving  hill-sides. 
This  hope  of  fruition  is  the  romance  of  agri- 
culture, the  poetry  of  seed-time,  and  whoever 
has  it  not,  makes  a  dull  and  thriftless  farmer. 
To  Ross'  glistening  eyes  strawberries  hung  on 
the  as  yet  viewless  vines,  inches  long,  and  the 
sweetest  ever  tasted  by  mortal  palate.  His 
three  feet  grape-vines  covered  the  ten  feet 
trellises,  and  were  thick  with  luscious  cataw- 
bas.  Potatoes  filled  their  white  jackets  thriftily 
while  yet  there  were  none,  and  his  inch-high 
tomatoes  made  the  garden  radiant  with  their 
crimson  ovals.  Indeed  the  way  he  talked  of 
them  was  sure  to  make  one's  mouth  water. 

The  kitchen  garden  was  a  picture,  when 
perfectly  planned.  Even  mother  Primrose 
confessed  that  her  "  old  gentleman  couldn't  a 
bettered  it!" 

Phil  worked  by  fits  and  starts,  so  that  his 
aid  was  not  worth  much.  He  was  better 
pleased  to  seat  himself  on  some  shaded  knoll, 
the  clear  water  at  his  feet,  and  dream  about 
strange  countries.  He  had  his  uses,  however, 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  335 

for  he  kept  the  family  abundantly  supplied 
with  fresh  fish,  besides  feeding  all  the  stray 
dogs  of  the  neighborhood.  Fanny  sometimes 
accompanied  him,  and-  as  the  shy  trout  and 
carp  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  for  the 
possession  of  her  hook,  Phil's  respect  for 
girls  was  raised  correspondingly,  and  his  shy- 
ness and  awkwardness  wore  off. 

The  little  folks  had  each  their  flower-gar- 
den. Kate  cultivated  roses — Fanny's  favor- 
ites wffre  pansies  and  fuschias;  little  Cad  and 
Linda  rejoiced  in  sunflowers  and  hollyhocks, 
they  wanted  their  instalment  in  breadth  and 
color.  Around  the  house  flowering  shrubs 
grew  in  plentiful,  profusion;  lilacs,  honey- 
suckles, verbenas,  and  many  other  blooms 
that  waited  for  autumn  to  paint  their  glow- 
ing petals. 

Redbow  was  becoming  dearer  every  month. 
Fanny,  who  had  returned  Miss  Jessie's  visit, 
came  back  with  rejoicing.  To  her  the  city, 
with  all  its  bustle,  seemed  tame  in  comparison 
with  home. 


336      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"I  missed  the  mountain  so,"  she  said  when 
speaking  of  it  to  her  mother;  "my  eyes  fairly 
ached  for  the  sight  of  dear  old  Redbow." 

One  day  Mr.  Winfield  took  the  little  folks 
for  a  ride  in  a  new  direction.  He  pointed  to 
an  excavation  on  the  way,  about  which  laid 
piles  of  timber  and  stacks  of  roughhewn 
stone. 

"O,  what  a  lovely  situation !"  cried  Fanny, 
"even  better  than  our  Redbow,  for  you  see  the 
more  picturesque  views  of  the  mountain." 

"Do  you  remember  the  picture  by  Bum- 
bauch,  in  the  Art  Rooms,  while  you  were  in 
city?"  asked  her  father. 

"Yes,  indeed;  how  I  longed  to  take  lessons 
from  such  an  artist!" 

"He  is  coming  here  to  live,  with  his  agree- 
able family,  and  this  is  the  site  he  has  chosen 
for  his  studio;  so  your  wish  will  be  granted, 
for  I  have  spoken  to  him  about  you." 

"O,  father!"  Fanny's  eyes  glistened;  this 
information  seemed  to  place  the  rose-leaf  on 
the  already  brimming  cup  of  her  happiness. 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  337 

Dainty,  the  quiet  family  horse,  made  many 
a  journey  as  the  days  grew  warm.  Every 
accessible  nook  in  the  vicinity  of  Redbow  was 
explored,  and  many  a  cool,  fairy-like  retreat 
chosen,  where  the  hot  summer  hours  might 
be  whiled  away  under  the  shadow  of  a  mighty 
oak  or  beech. 

"Suppose  I  were  to  tell  you,"  said  Mr. 
Winfield  one  day,  "that  some  depreciated 
stocks  of  mine,  which  I  thought  utterly  worth- 
less, had  risen  to  an  almost  fabulous  value? 
Children,  if  you  desire  it,  we  can  return  to 
our  old  city  home.  Does  any  one  object?" 

"  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Winfield,  who  was  coax- 
ing Prince  Charlie  to  take  his  first  step. 

"  We  all  do.     I  know  we  do,"  echoed  Kate. 

"  Every  soul  of  us,"  Cad  responded,  with 
double  emphasis. 

"  Unless  we  could  take  dear  old  Redbow 
along,"  said  Fanny,  who  had  become  an  enthu- 
siast in  mountain  scenery. 

"Then,  it  seems  you  all  prefer  Redbow 
for  some  years  longer,"  said  papa.  "  Well,  so 
22 


338      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

do  I.  When  it  is  time  for  Master  Phil  to  go 
to  college,  perhaps  then  we  will  try  it  But  I 
think  at  least  we  might  afford  a  handsome 
family  carriage." 

"Like  the  Baker's!"  proposed  Cad. 

Mr.  Winfield  next  took  from  his  pocket  two 
photographs  which  he  had  that  day  received 
in  a  letter  from  his  brother  in  India.  One 
represented  the  handsome  bungalow,  as  Linda 
called  the  residence  of  her  father,  the  other 
was  the  picture  of  her  new  mamma.  There 
was  other  information  in  the  pocket  of  his 
capacious  coat,  which  he  withheld  from  them 
all. 

Linda  withdrew  to  a  familiar  nook,  to  study 
the  photograph.  Cad  soon  followed  her. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  she  whispered. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  child,  with 
quivering  lips ;  "  I  guess  my  own  mamma 
was  best.  Mamma  had  such  red  lips  and  such 
pretty  blue  eyes.  I  wish  she  had  never  died 
and  left  me  to  somebody  I  don't  even  know, 
for  a  mamma." 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  339 

"But  you  may  love  her,  for  all  that,"  said 
Cad ;  "  this  mamma  is  not  our  very  first  one. 
She  died  when  I  was  ever  so  little  ;  but  I  don't 
think  our  very  own  could  be  better — do  you  ?" 

Linda  shook  her  head. 

"And  you're  to  stay  with  us  till  you're  a 
young  lady — so  our  mamma  is  the  same  as 
yours." 

"  That's  true,"  responded  Linda  with  return- 
ing cheerfulness. 

Phil  gave  it  as  his  private  opinion,  that 
Redbow  was  good  enough,  but  what  was  the 
glorious  Fourth  without  a  city  to  spend  it  in  ? 
Whereat  all  the  little  folks  set  themselves 
working  at  the  problem,  how  they  should  get 
up  sufficient  and  seemly  amusement  for  that 
great  day. 

Before  they  had  arrived  at  any  comfortable 
conclusion,  a  number  of  small  pink  notes  were 
scattered  among  them,  each  one  containing  a 
separate  invitation  to  "  Shade  Lawn,"  the  home 
of  the  Bakers,  to  spend  that  momentous  holi- 
day. 


340      The  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

"We  are  to  have  music,  and  an  oration," 
wrote  Marcia,  in  a  separate  envelope,  to  Kate, 
"and  dinner  in  the  marquee,  in  the  garden. 
The  children  of  Redbow  Sabbath-school  are 
all  to  come  dressed  in  white,  with  rosettes 
composed  of  the  national  colors  affixed  to 
their  sashes.  Games  on  the  lawn,  and  plenty 
of  sponge-cake  and  ice-cream ;  I  believe  that 
is  the  programme.  Won't  it  be  fun  ?  Papa 
has  spoken  for  quantities  of  fire-works,  and  a 
man  is  coming  from  the  city  to  superintend 
in  that  particular  department.  Please  wear 
white,  with  the  national  colors.  Perhaps  we 
we  may  have  a  regatta  in  the  afternoon  on  the 
lake;  it  is  not  quite  decided  yet.  You  have 
no  idea  how  nicely  I  can  handle  the  oars, 
myself — etc." 

After  this,  even  Phil  was  reconciled  to  a 
Fourth  in  the  country,  and  for  days  nothing 
else  was  talked  of. 

"  I  wish  it  wasn't  a  whole  week,"  said  Cad, 
and  even  Kate  and  Fanny  betrayed  an  unusual 
anxiety  to  hurry  along  the  days  and  hours, 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  341 

and,  indeed,  talked  of  little  else  beside  the 
expected  pleasure. 

"  Girls,  I'm  afraid  you  count  too  much  on 
tiiis  fete"  said  Mrs.  Winfield. 

"Why,  mamma?"  asked  Fanny,  anxiously, 
looking  up  from  a  pencil  sketch  to  which  she 
was  putting  the  finishing  touches. 

"  It  is  quite  natural  you  should  all  be 
pleased  with  the  prospect  of  so  much  pleasure, 
and  anticipate  the  day;  but  sometimes,  after  a 
long  season  of  sunshine,  the  rain  comes." 

"  O  mamma,  it's  scarcely  fair  to  make  us 
gloomy,"  spoke  up  Cad;  "besides,  it  hardly 
ever  rains  on  the  Fourth  of  July." 

Mrs.  Winfield  smiled;  that  was  not  exactly 
what  she  meant,  but  as  she  was  not  given  to 
croaking,  she  said  nothing  more. 

June  went  out  in  tears,  and  July  came  in 
with  sunshine.  Its  more  substantial  herald 
was  green  peas,  the  first  instalment  of  Ross' 
industry,  and  proud  enough  he  was,  as  every 
one  joined  in  praise  of  their  sweetness. 

The  third  of  July  found  nearly  all  the  little 


342      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

folks  perched  upon  the  cherry-tree  boughs. 
Redbow  was  expected  to  contribute  towards 
the  Sunday-school  dinner,  and  the  Winfields 
donated  luscious  black-heart  cherries  and 
vegetables. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  was  devoted  to 
expectation.  There  was  no  prospect  of  clouds 
or  tears  in  the  serenely  blue  heavens,  all  was 
peace  within  and  beauty  without  the  Red- 
bow  mansion.  « 

At  seven,  the  little  folks  assembled  on  the 
porch  to  talk  over  "to-morrow."  Mr.  Winfield 
sat  at  the  open  window,  reading.  Mrs.  Win- 
field  was  putting  a  few  last  stitches  in  the 
pretty  white  frock  which  it  was  expected 
Prince  Charlie  would  wear  on  this,  his  first 
Fourth  of  July. 

"  There's  Mr.  Parker,  next  neighbor  to  the 
Bakers,"  said  Ross.  "I  wonder  what  he  is 
coming  for.  What  a  splendid  rider! — sits  on 
his  horse  as  if  he  was  glued  to  him." 

"Probably  a  message  from  Shade  Lawn," 
said  Fanny. 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  343 

"  May-be  we  didn't  send  enough  cherries," 
Cad  responded,  a  look  of  consternation  chang- 
ing her  earnest  little  face. 

"Well?"  queried  Ross,  as  the  man  drew 
rein.  Phil,  for  some  unaccountable  reason, 
sprang  from  the  porch,  and  ran  round  to  the 
back  of  the  house.  The  man's  silence  was 
ominous.  Then  he  spoke  in  a  voice  that  was 
very  low,  but  distinct : 

"I  have  bad  news  for  you.  Miss  Marcia 
Baker  was  drowned  in  the  lake,  an  hour  or 
two  ago." 

A  horror  of  silence  fell  upon  the  little  par- 
lor. Ross,  sick  and  pale,  backed  into  the 
house,  but  Mr.  Winfield  went  out  on  the  porch, 
paper  in  hand. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?"  he  asked,  very 
slowly. 

"She  was  with  a  small  party,  boating  on 
the  lake.  I  don't  know  just  how  the  accident 
happened.  I  was  passing  by  when  they  were 
taking  her  to  the  house.  They  said  she  was 
quite  dead.  I  was  riding  this  way,  and  so — ." 


344      TJte  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Kate  crept  up  to  her  room,  weeping  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  Her  mother  rose  to 
follow  her,  but  checked  herself  and  sat  down. 
Fanny  remained  on  the  porch,  pale  and  tear- 
less. Cad  and  Linda  went  up  together  to  the 
play-room,  and  sat  down  by  the  west  window. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  want  to  play 
with  our  dolls  again,"  said  Cad,  in  an  awe- 
struck whisper. 

"Only  think,  how  dreadful!  and  she  was 
going  to  have  such  a  good  time  to-morrow," 
responded  Linda,  with  equal  gravity. 

"And  now  we  shan't  go  there  of  course; 
only,  perhaps,  to  the  funeral."  Cad  shuddered 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  sentence. 

"Kate  and  she  were  just  like  sisters,  weren't 
they  ?"  queried  Linda. 

"Like  twins!"  emphasized  Cad. 

'•  Mustn't  it  be  dreadfully  sad  at  Shady 
Lawn?  They're  all  crying.  I  shouldn't  like 
to  be  Nelly  Baker  now,  would  you  ?" 

"  No ;  and  I'll  never  go  out  sailing.  Phil 
is  going  to  have  a  boat — but  I  never  will." 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  345 

After  a  pause,  Linda  asked: 

"Would  you  tell  our — the  children?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  seems  as  if  I  never  wanted 

to  play  with  them  again.     We  might  just  tell 

Petkin,  she's  the  oldest." 

So   Petkin  was   taken   from   her  bed,  and 

gravely  informed  of  the  loss.     Holding  Petkin 

close  to  her  neck,  seemed   to  comfort  Cad. 
"  What  an  awful  Fourth  of  July  it  will  be 

to-morrow!"  whispered  Linda. 

"Don't  speak  of  it,"  shuddered  Cad — "and 

don't  say  awful ;   you   know   mamma  don't 

» 

like  us  to." 

"Not  even  now?" 

"No — I  guess  not." 

"And  Redbow  looks  just  as  natural." 

As  if  this  was  provocation  beyond  all  endu- 
rance, poor  Cad  burst  into  tears. 

"  He  can't  know — or  it,"  whispered  Linda. 
"  It's  only  rocks  and  stones." 

"Nor  the  sun;  don't  you  think  that  saw 
it  all?"  sobbed  Cad,  and  it  will  shine  right 
on  just  as  red  and  bright  to-morrow." 


346      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

Down  stairs  there  was  quiet,  but  none  the 
less  real  sorrow.  Mr.  Winfield  had  put  his 
paper  away,  and  now  stood  at  the  great  oval 
window,  looking  steadfastly  at  Redbow,  whose 
ledges,  giant  steps  and  gorges  were  rained 
upon  with  gold  and  silver  and  crimson  dyes. 

Phil  had  thrown  himself  on  the  porch,  and 
was  looking  up  solemnly  into  the  shadowy 
atmosphere.  The  great  elms  lazily  shook 
their  fibrous  leaves,  seeming  to  throw  fine 
golden  filaments  over  the  boy's  bright  curls, 
and  along  the  sombre  floor  of  the  old  porch. 

Ross  could  be  seen  in  the  distance,  leaning 
against  the  moss-covered  trunk  of  the  oldest 
tree  in  the  garden. 

Fanny  held  Prjnce  Charlie,  and  was  vaguely 
hushing  him,  though  he  had  gone  to  sleep. 

Presently  the  tea-bell  rang. 

Kate  was  missing.  Fanny  volunteered  to 
find  her,  but  Mrs.  Winfield  said  no.  Tea  was 
partaken  of  in  silence.  Little  was  eaten.  A 
cloud  had  suddenly  spread  its  dark  shadows 
over  them. 


Bitter  and  Sweet.  347 

As  for  Kate,  she  sat  in  her  own  room,  quite 
inconsolable.  The  twilight  shades  crept  in 
and  twined  themselves  about  her,  and  still 
she  was  immovable,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
folded  arms. 

Sadly  she  recalled  Marcia's  gentle  ways; 
her  silvery  laugh,  her  loving  words,  her  musi- 
cal voice.  She  thought  of  the  sorrowful  hush 
in  the  household  from  which  that  brilliant 
life  had  gone,  and  the  tears  fell  afresh. 

"  I  never  knew  what  trouble  was  before," 
she  murmured,  bitterly.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  she  could  scarcely  mourn  more,  if  Fanny 
had  been  called  away. 

At  last,  when  it  was  nearly  dark,  a  gentle 
knock  sounded  at  the  door. 

"  Is  it  you,  mamma  ?"  asked  Kate. 

"Yes,  dear;  had  you  not  better  come  down? 
The  children  feel  lonely." 

"  Presently,  mamma,"  she  forced  herself  to 
say,  though  her  tears  began  to  flow  afresh. 

Then  Kate  struggled  with  herself. 

"  They  are  all  sorrowful,"  she  murmured, 


348      TJie  Little  Folks  of  Red  bow. 

"  why  should  I  be  so  selfish  ?  They  all  loved 
her — O!  Marcia!  Marcia!" 

Suddenly  she  lifted  her  head.  Hark !  what 
was  that  jubilant  sound?  A  sudden  rush  of 
noise,  of  merriment — could  it  be?  Bursts  of 
laughter — wild  exultant  shouts! 

Her  heart  stood  almost  still  as  she  listened; 
the  noise  grew  yet  merrier,  yet  madder. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


AN      UNCLOUDED      HOLIDAY. 

"  Out  with  your  festival  garlands, 
And  hang  your  banners  high !" 

KATE,  Kate  ! — where  are  you  ? 
We're  to  have  the  Fourth,  after 
all — we're  to  have  the  Fourth !" 

Quick,  noisy  feet  were  hurrying 
up  the  stairs,  pellmell,  as  if  they  were  tum- 
bling over  each  other. 

The  latch  lifted,  and  Thil  burst  in,  head 
foremost. 

"Light  a  lamp,  Kate,  quick!"  sang  out 
Fanny.  "They've  just  been  here  to  tell  us. 
Mr.  Parker  rode  back,  just  as  fast  as  he  could 
come ;  I  expect  he  nearly  flew.  What  do 
you  think?  It  wasn't  Marcia,  after  all;  it 

349 


350      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

was  another  girl  that  fell  into  the  lake,  and 
in  the  confusion  they  thought  it  was  poor 
Marcia;  and  she  didn't  die.  What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

"  Hurrah !"  chorused  Phil,  in  his  most  up- 
roarious style — "three  cheers  and  a  tiger"! 

Kate  stood  there,  half-bewildered,  while 
Fanny  got  a  light,  quite  unconscious  that  she 
was  laughing,  while  tears  were  running  down 
her  cheeks.  A  transition  so  sudden,  from  the 
deepest  despondency  to  the  wildest  delight, 
was  almost  too  much  for  her.  Presently  the 
family  were  all  down  stairs,  holding  high 
carnival. 

Ross  delivered  a  stump  speech,  on  which 
he  dilated  on  the  virtue  of  self-possession,  in 
the  midst  of  which  Cad  exclaimed : 

"  What's  the  use,  when  we're  all  just  wild, 
we're  so  happy  ?" 

Cad  had  taken  all  her  dolls  into  favor  again 
and  hugged  two  in  each  arm.  Phil  hopped 
around  on  all  fours  without  rebuke,  and  if 
ever  thankful  hearts  sent  praises  up  to  the 


An   Unclouded  Holiday.          351 

Good  Father,  they  of  that  happy  group  praised 
God  that  night. 

What  if  Kate's  eyes  were  a  trifle  swollen 
the  next  morning,  when  Phil's  home-made 
cannon  roused  her  from  pleasant  dreams?  It 
seemed  as  if  her  heart  had  never  so  swelled 
with  joy  as  on  that  memorable  Fourth  of  July. 
What  a  holiday  it  was !  brightened  all  over 
with  the  glory  of  thanksgiving. 

Even  the  baby  and  the  baby's  nurse  went 
to  Shade  Lawn. 

At  the  meeting  between  Kate  and  Marcia 
there  were  a  few  tears  shed,  but  they  were 
tears  of  rapture. 

"  Papa  was  quite  offended  with  Mr.  Parker," 
said  Marcia,  "for  not  ascertaining  the  facts 
before  he  posted  off  to  your  house.  But  poor 
man,  he  seemed  so  sorry  for  it,  and  so  happy 
to  post  back  again,  that  he  quite  made  up  for 
his  thoughtlessness.  We  are  not  to  have  any 
boat-riding,  though ;  papa  is  very  decided 
against  it." 

The   day  was  a  grand  success.     Even   the 


352      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

oration  was  voted  brilliant,  and  Kate  and 
Marcia  served  the  ice-cream,  giving  bountiful 
measure. 

The  dinner  was  delightful,  and  with  the 
fire-works  the  pleasure  culminated. 

About  four  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  that 
same  day,  a  handsome  equipage  had  stopped 
before  the  old  porch  of  Redbow  cottage,  to 
the  consternation  of  the  one  servant,  who> 
when  the  occupants  alighted,  ran  over  to 
mother  Primrose  with  the  information  that  a 
couple  of  grand  folks  had  come,  and  she  didn't 
know  what  to  do  with  them. 

"Do  you  mean  it's  Mr.  Winfield's  folks?" 
asked  mother  Primrose,  sharply,  for  she  had 
been  roused  out  of  a  pleasant  nap. 

"  No  more  do  I  know,  mum,  only  he  has 
the  look  of  it — and  nothing  in  the  house  but 
bread  and  butter." 

"Well,  I  guess  they  ain't  any  too  grand  to 
eat  that,  if  it's  set  before  em,"  said  mother 
Primrose,  as  she  followed  the  girl  back  .to 
Redbow— "it's  my  butter." 


An  Unclouded  Holiday.         353 

"Take  it  easy  mother — take  it  easy,"  called 
father  Primrose  from  a  field  near  by. 

Arrived  at  the  cottage,  mother  Primrose 
found  the  "grand  folks"  making  themselves 
quite  at  home.  The  lady  had  taken  off  her 
hat,  and  was  gracefully  reclining  on  one  of  the 
sumptuous  lounges  in  the  parlor.  The  gen- 
tleman stood  looking  from  the  great  oval 
window  on  the  magnificent  scene  there  pre- 
sented. 

He  turned  around  on  hearing  the  light  step 
of  Mrs.  Primrose. 

"I  find  Mr.  Winfield  and  his  family  absent?" 
he  said. 

"Yes,  sir;  he  and  the  little  folks  were  took 
to  Shade  Lawn — that's  a  neighbor's,  sir — airly 
this  morning;  it's  about  a  couple  o'  mile  from 
here." 

"  Think  of  that,  Emma,"  and  the  gentleman 
turned  to  the  lady  on  the  lounge,  "  the  nearest 
neighbor  is  two  miles  away." 

"  Not  quite  that,  sir,"  said  mother  Primrose, 
with  a  movement  something  like  an  old  fash- 
23 


354      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

ioned  courtesy;  "I'm  their  nearest  neighbor. 
But  then  two  miles  isn't  much — not  to  speak 
of,"  she  added.  "  Folks  that  live  in  the  coun- 
try know  what  neighborly  means." 

"I  believe  that,  Mrs." — the  gentleman 
hesitated,  running  his  hand  over  his  long, 
rippling,  sunny  beard.  He  did  not  know 
the  name. 

"  Primrose,  sir,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  If 
you've  been  travelling  long,  mayhap  you'd 
like  something  to  eat" 

"Exactly  what  I  was  going  to  say,  Mrs. 
Primrose ;  we  have  been  riding  a  long  way, 
and  are  both  hungry." 

"Bless  your  heart,  sir,  I'll  get  you  a  bite 
and  a  sip  right  off — a  bite  and  a  sip  in  this 
house  are  equal  to  pretty  good  fare  any- 
where else.  Please  excuse  me,  and  as  soon 
as  I've  made  a  cup  of  tea,  I'll  come  to  call 
you." 

"  What  a  pretty,  queer  little  old  lady !"  said 
the  gentleman's  travelling  companion,  lan- 
guidly. "  She  looks  as  if  she  had  stepped  out 


An  Unclouded  Holiday.         355 

of  a  bandbox !  I  know  I  shall  enjoy  a  cup  of 
her  tea." 

"lam  sure  you  will,  my  dear;  she  puts 
heart  into  everything  she  does,  I'll  warrant. 
Do  you  know,  she  reminds  me  of  those  little 
trim  landladies  at  Welsh  Inns." 

"  I  never  saw  anything  or  anybody  Welsh," 
laughed  the  lady — "but  she  is  as  pretty  as  a 
picture." 

"They're  grand  folks,  as  you  said,  Hannah;" 
and  Mrs.  Primrose  bustled  about  the  kitchen, 
"but  gentle  folks  too,  like  the  Winfields 
themselves.  Some  o'  their  city  friends,  I  sup- 
pose, though  certain  it's  a  queer  day  of  all  days 
to  come  a  visiting.  Them  sort  o'  people,  I've 
heard,  always  manage  to  come  a  little  after 
they're  expected;  that's  high  fashion,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  I  declare  if  I  aint  all  in  a  fluster !"  cried 
the  girl. 

"Then  git  out  of  it  as  soon  as  you  can. 
It's  I  that  should  be  flustered,  if  anybody,  but 
you  see  how  composed  I  am.  Stop,  run  over 


356      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

to  my  house  as  quick  as  ever  you  can,  and 
bring  the  covered  bowl  of  cream — you'll  find 
it  in  the  buttery.  Then  ask  pa  to  give  you 
that  bit  of  chicken  in  the  side  closet;  'twon't 
take  no  time  to  git  em  up  one  o'  my  salads. 
There's  a  piece  of  corn-beef,  that'll  do  for  a 
relish,  and  I  hope  they  may  never  have  worse. 
I'll  let  em  see  that  some  folks  can  git  up 
a  supper  onexpectedly,  if  they  shouldn't  be 
prepared." 

Nothing  could  look  neater  or  sweeter,  than 
that  table,  under  the  supervision  of  mother 
Primrose.  The  cloth  was  like  frost  in  white- 
ness, and  the  tea  deliciously  tempered  with 
the  richest  of  cream. 

^1  shouldn't  care  if  we  could  have  such  a 
blooming  Primrose  in  our  home,  Emma/'  said 
the  gentleman,  as  he  sent  out  his  cup  for  the 
third  time. 

"  She  has  a  remarkably  sweet  face,"  his  wife 
responded;  "I  wonder  if  she  is  the  house- 
keeper. The  chicken-salad  is  quite  equal  to 
Yohem's  tiffins." 


An  Unclouded  Holiday.         357 

Mother  Primrose  now  came  in  with  the  cup 
of  tea. 

"  Is  my  brother  well  ?"  asked  the  guest. 

"Your  brother — bless  me!"  said  mother 
Primrose,  with  a  great  start — it  was  well  she 
had  put  the  tea  out  of  her  hand.  "  Well  now, 
I  said  you  favored  him;  so  you  are  his 
brother?" 

"  The  same — at  least  so  says  the  register  in 
the  old  family  Bible." 

"Dear  me,  deary !  which  brother  may  you 
be,  then?" 

"The  brother  who  has  been  in  India  several 
years." 

"  Laws  yes,  and  that  accounts  for  the  dark- 
ness, doesn't  it?  Mr.  Winfield  is  quite  well, 
sir;  likewise  ever}*  inmate  and  member  of  his 
family." 

"Then  my  little  girl  is  also  well." 

"And  Linda  is  your  little  daughter?  Bless 
her  heart!  why  then  she's  the  likeliest,  heart- 
somest  little  piece  of  a  woman  that  you  ever 
did  see.  Well,  well,  to  be  sure;  it  almost 


358      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

takes  my  breath  away.  What  will  the  dear 
child  say — she  that  thinks  you  thousands  of 
miles  away?" 

"I  am  rather  anxious  to  see  her  myself," 
said  Harry  Winfield,  his  voice  trembling  a 
little. 

"  He's  like  our  Mr.  Winfield,  and  yet  he 
isn't  like,"  soliloquized  Mrs.  Primrose,  when 
she  had  regained  the  kitchen.  "There's  not 
that  niceness  of  the  skin  nor  clearness  of  the 
complexion,  but  still  a  handsome,  elegant- 
mannered  man  for  all  that.  Well,  well ;  won't 
there  be  fine  doin's  now?  This  one'll  carry 
the  other  one  back  to  Indy  with  him,  perhaps. 
And  how  delicate  and  languid  the  lady  looks; 
she's  Miss  Linda's  mamma.  I  wonder  how 
the  pretty  one  will  like  her?" 

"  After  the  pleasant  lunch,  Mr.  Harry  Win- 
field  took  a  stroll  around  the  house.  With 
every  step  he  grew  more  delighted  with  the 
old  p^ace. 

"  My  brother  told  me  he  had  failed,"  he 
said  to  his  wife,  "but  if  this  is  the  result,  I 


An  Unclouded  Holiday.         359 

shall  be  obliged  to  congratulate  him.  I  think 
I  should  be  content  to  live  in  just  such  a  spot. 
What  a  charming  family  he  must  have,  judg- 
ing by  the  many  evidences  of  good  taste  ex- 
hibited on  all  sides.  Did  you  ever  see  such 
a  fine  mountain  ?"  he  asked,  as  the  two  stood 
gazing  on  the  mighty  sides  of  Redbow. 

"One  might  be  healthy  here,  I  should 
think,"  replied  his  wife. 

"  And  as  health  is  our  main  pursuit  at  pre- 
sent, I'm  not  sure  but  I  shall  conclude  to  stay 
here  awhile." 

"  Dear  heart,  one  can't  git  onhealthy  here," 
said  old  mother  Primrose,  overhearing  him. 
"  Every  peaked  face  in  that  family  has  grown 
round — big  and  little.  The  little  girl  was  so 
thin  and  sallow  when  she  came  here  last  fall, 
that  I  feared  for  her  health — why  you  wouldn't 
know  her  hardly,  though  she  is  your  own 
child.  Her  cheeks  is  filled  out,  and  roses  in 
'em  both.  I've  been  here  since  I  come  into 
Miss  Lotty's  family,  going  on  sixteen — and 
now  I'm  sixty." 


360     The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

"You  are  certainly  a  blooming  proof  of 
your  assertion,"  said  Mr.  Harry  Winfield. 

When  the  little  folks  came  home  that  even- 
ing, the  greatest  surprise  of  the  day  was  in 
store  for  them. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  asked  Mrs.  Winfield,  as 
mother  Primrose  announced  to  them  the  fact 
of  a  visitor. 

Mr.  Winfield  smiled. 

"  How  are  you,  brother? — and  which  is  my 
little  girl?" 

The  moon  threw  its  bright  beams  over  the 
rugged  height  of  old  Redbow  as  the  little 
folks  looked  on,  astonished  to  see  the  two 
men  in  each  other's  arms. 

"It's  my  uncle  Harry!"  said  Cad. 

"O,  papa!  papa!"  and  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  me  to  say  it,  Linda  was  pressed  to  her 
father's  heart. 

Then  there  was  a  hubbub  to  be  sure,  while 
the  pleasant  introductions  were  going  on  in 
the  parlor. 

Ross  stole  out  and  sent  up  some  fire-works 


An  Unclouded  Holiday.         361 

that  Marcia  Baker  had  given  him.  Then  the 
porch  was  filled  with  little  folks  and  large. 
Old  Redbow  echoed  their  shouts,  and  in  spite 
of  the  arduous  duties  of  the  day,  which  had 
made  everybody  glad  to  get  home,  the  kitchen 
clock  had  struck  one  before  the  final  adieus 
were  given  for  the  night,  or  rather  morning. 

"I  love  her  dearly,"  whispered  Linda  in 
Cad's  ear,  after  they  had  knelt  and  said  their 
prayers. 

"Who?"  queried  Cad. 

"Why,  my  new  mamma." 

"I  guess  she'll  be  every  whit  as  good  as 
ours,"  said  Cad,  with  great  unction. 

My  pen  would  fain  linger  on  such  scenes 
as  this,  but  there  is,  happily,  a  limit  to  stories 
as  well  as  to  human  patience,  so  the  time  has 
come  for  me  to  take  my  farewell  of  dear, 
delightful  Redbow.  Nor  could  I  do  so  at  a 
more  auspicious  moment,  when  Linda's  little 
heart  is  overflowing  with  love  and  thanks- 
giving, having  been  told  that  her  papa  is 


362      The  Little  Folks  of  Redbow. 

intending  to  remain  in  America,  and  perhaps 
build  a  splendid  house  somewhere  in  sight 
of  Redbow. 

One  can  almost  hear  little  Cad's  expressive 
'W-egant!" 

I  am  sure  that  sweet  Kate  will  become  a 
lovely,  accomplished  woman,  and  that  Fanny 
is  likely  to  develop  rare  talents  as  an  artist. 
Perhaps  if  my  dear  friends,  the  readers,  wish 
to  hear  a  more  extended  report  of  how  Ross 
flourished  amidst  his  cornfields  and  potato 
patches,  like  a  true  king  of  the  soil,  and  how 
Kate  eventually  rejoiced  in  her  dairy,  and 
Fanny  mounted  a  good  many  steps  in  the 
ladder  of  fame,  I  may  tell  them  some  future 
time. 

Till  then,  one  and  all,  Farewell. 


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